


Flesh And Bone

by Iden_Shelby



Series: Fear the Walking Dead | T. Otto [3]
Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV), The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Apocalypse, Blood, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Canon Compliant, Canon Related, Complicated Relationships, Emotional Manipulation, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Enemies to Lovers, Explicit Language, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Killing, Manipulation, Manipulative Relationship, Not Canon Compliant, Past Abuse, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Past Child Abuse, Post-Apocalypse, Racism, Revenge, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Touch-Starved, Touch-Starved Troy Otto, Violence, Weekly update, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-08
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-04-22 12:06:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 74
Words: 204,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22174426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iden_Shelby/pseuds/Iden_Shelby
Summary: "You said you had my back."Cristine felt her scalp tingle, neck and facial muscles pulled tight. This conflicting feelings of helplessness and being cornered annoying her greatly. Everything Troy said made her angry and if it was before she wouldn't care about any of this. She'd stay as far away from him as possible and watch it all crash and burn before escaping with her family. But they had a mutual respect for one another now.  That's what Cristine liked to believe until Troy smashed it like some cheap vase in barely a few days. Cristine felt betrayed and sickened by his actions. She should have been used to people disappointing her, but this time hurt her more than usual and Cristine didn't understand why."Was that a lie?" Troy asked genuinely."No," Cristine felt something tickle at the base of her throat and her eyes stung. "But I'm not going to pretend that what you did is okay. It'll never be okay Troy. Do you get that?"
Relationships: Troy Otto/Original Character(s), Troy Otto/Original Female Character(s), Troy otto/oc
Series: Fear the Walking Dead | T. Otto [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1490819
Comments: 309
Kudos: 138





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> WARNING: Mature and triggering themes will be present in this story. It's The Walking Dead universe, so that's to be expected. So if you're easily triggered, please don't read this. I won't be placing any trigger warnings in my chapters. 
> 
> I only own my original characters and the non-canon plots of this story.

Cristine's eyes greeted the daylight, her muscles expanded with the stretch of her body. It took her a moment to shake off the sleep. A soundless yawn spilled over her lips as Cristine welcomed the serene dawn. Flexing her muscles like a cat would, Cristine rubbed her eyes before slowly sitting up in her bed. As awindow was nearby, the corners of her vision were momentarily blindsided by the bright sunlight peeking through in all of its glory.

After taking one more minute to come to herself Cristine swung her legs over the bed and unlocked the rest of her joints. Stalking to the small bathroom in the back, Cristine undressed for a cold shower in this warm morning. The cool water felt like a blessing to her skin, the air already rising the temperature of her home like an oven set on pre-heat. Cristine relished in the essence of the cold droplets. Afterwards, she brushed her teeth and dressed in some light, but protective clothes for outside.

"Cristine come in, over." Surprised by the unexpected voice, Cristine quickly grabbed the walkie-talkie from her night stand and thumbs the talk button.

The sound just crackles when she answered, "Blake? Where the hell have you guys been?" Frowning, Cristine was surprised to hear a sign of life. Troy and the militia left for the military depot some weeks ago to get fuel. Her and Blake kept in touch frequently just to stay up-to-date or talk about everything and nothing. Hell, Cristine would even admit they'd gotten closer over the period as friends, which Hailey used to tease by insinuating things that weren't there.

"Aw, you miss me?" Blake's voice sizzles and Cristine could only imagine that smug smirk on his face. She sucked in a harsh breath and pushed down her annoyance at his nerve to joke with her after being MIA for weeks.

"You guys should've been back weeks ago," she spat. "What's the hold-up?" Stalking through her cabin, Cristine grabbed her keys before stepping outside. The sun was barely uput already began to blaze a bright orange behind the horizon. But with the location of her new semi-permanent home, the wind pitched up a notch and made the pressing heat bearable.

"A few problems near the border. Nothing we can't handle. Troy doesn't want to leave it up to chance though," Blake answered in a hushed tone and Cristine's mind wandered off to the experiments that never stopped. She was even inclined to believe they got worse. A potential threat wouldn't be the only motivation for the militia to preemptively attack. Not when Troy was in charge. It was one of the taboo subjects she and Blake didn't discuss when talking. They didn't speak of the dead when they didn't have to, no theories or research and no experiment talk.

"Makes sense, but you still haven't answered the question. It's a simple fuel run. What's taking so long? You know they'll send someone back home to check you."

"Let's not talk about that." Blake diverted the conversation into something light-hearted, "how you settling in your new kingdom?" Cristine smiled with a light shake of her head.

After the debacle that was Ben and the potential threat of his group, the Ranch fortified both manpower and walls. Fortunately, nothing awful occurred, no attacks, no all out war and not a single peep of this group even heading in their direction. It was as if the dessert swallowed them up. One of the good things was that the militia recruited between the 20-30 men and women. Cristine helped train many of them and there was fixed system in place when it came to their armed forces now. In return, Troy vouched that Cristine occupy outpost Beta, while McCarthy was in charge of Alpha.

For Cristine, she now had a place to really call hers. She wanted it ever since she was on the Ranch, even after fully earning her keep. Of course, Hailey and her father weren't happy about it, but Cristine wasn't going to let that hinder her peace of mind. She was happier now and felt at peace with herself. Could sleep a bit better and still pulled her weight. When she saw strange things, she reported them back in, went on runs, and brought back the valuables to the Ranch and created her own little pantry stash. Aside from that, Cristine went back to Broke Jaw every two days to see her family. Hell, for her sister, Jake, Blake, and Charlie, this outpost was a new place for them to hangout. Her social contact was still there and that was more she could ask for.

"It's been peaceful. Quiet. The good kind," Cristine answered.

"You know you don't have to stay there... I don't really know why you even want to in the middle of nowhere all by yourself." Blake's reminder was a repetitive one, but Cristine knew it came from a place of worry. All alone by herself and exposed by the elements, the dead and the living. But she wanted this.

"Aw, you worried about me now Blakey?" Cristine teased back.

"Yeah, yeah don't get all sentimental on me." There was some crackling noise in the background, but Cristine had a hard time making out what it was or what was said. "Listen, I need to bounce, my turn for patrol. Tall to you later."

"Yeah." Cristine paused briefly, "be safe."

"Always am. You too."

-   
  


Dressed in her outdoor garb and worn out baseball cap, Cristine strode outside to do her routine checkup of the fences. She, Jake, Charlie and Blake build this perimeter. It took them a week, but she was grateful for the help and company. Empty and old cans dangled between the wires as alarm for the dead and living alike. If, by any chance the dead made it here first, horde or not, her fences needed to be strong enough to hold back for a bit.

Wiping the back of her already sweating neck, Cristine grabbed her hunting riffle and used the scope to look in the far distance. A cloud of dust gathered in the distance and it either meant a vehicles or a group of dead. Unclenching her jaw, Cristine picked out the familiar truck that belonged to Jake.   
  


"Blake didn't say anything else?" The anxious worry oozed from Jake's body and was palpable inside Cristine's cabin. He didn't even take a seat or drink the water she offered him, choosing instead to use the wall as support with his arms crossed over his chest.

Cristine shook her head and pinched the bridge of her nose with equal vexation over the fact that this fuel run caused this unnecessary worry and chaos. "No. Only about there being people at the border and Troy not wanting to take any chances."

The answer only managed to deepen the scowl on Jake's face. Worrying about a younger sibling was something Cristine could understand. The pity she felt for Jake being the eldest was on a whole other level with Troy in the picture. The relationship between Jake and Troy sounded complicated, fragile, and exhausting. The two often talked and Jake shared things with her; how he always protected Troy, that the promises his younger made to him meant something... and also that Troy wasn't happy to have Jake back on the Ranch; betrayed that his older left at all. Left Troy with their father and that it took the end of the world for their family to come together and start over. It was those festering issues Jake and Jeremiah used as an excuse to allow Troy free reign.

"You think that's all it was?" Cristine's shoulders raised and in spite of herself an equally troubled expression settled in her face.

"Blake and I don't talk about th-"

"Cristine," Jake interjected, his eyes became frail and she looked away as the tension grew. Just as Jake shared his familial issues, Cristine told Jake about the night Troy and the militia dragged her out to kill that family in the dessert. Went out of his way to find people for 'science' and make a point to her that night. The horror on Jake's face wasn't as severe as Cristine thought it would be. But it clicked to her right then and there that Jake was fully aware of the darkness inside of his little brother.

"Just because you don't talk about it doesn't mean its not happening."

Cristine's response was biting, her nostrils flared and Jake knew he hit a nerve. "And that's their bed to lay in. We're all big boys and girl who make our own choices. I'm not going to feeling guilty or lose sleep because they decided to use what I divulged for human experiments."

"I know," Jake muttered softly, feeling bad that it came across as if he blamed Cristine for this. He didn't. "I didn't mean it like that. You're not to blame. They are- I'm sorry... things have been tense back home with Troy and my father lately. My dad thought this fuel run would be good to let Troy and militia blow off some steam. Cast one out to protect the many." A cynical smile tilted on Jake's lips, but it quickly dwindled and the weariness on his face was apparent. Like he'd fought an army of dead.  
  


After her confession that day, Jake too confined about Troy. How his little brother was the way since he was a chil. Cautioned her to be careful around Troy and set boundaries for him so that he wouldn't do the things he'd done to her ever again. Sometimes, Jake caught himself sharing too much, but Cristine blamed it on Jake never really having someone to talk about. Jake was stuck in the middle of their father's radical and bigoted views; views that were so ingrained in Troy and were part of his personality. Views Jake grew up with too, but was able to break from for most part. Jake went to college and interacted with the same people he was taught to hate and see as the enemy. It was then Jake understood that the world wasn't just what his father described it to be. There was much more to it and it gave him hope. Even with the world as it was now.

"You going to the depot?" Cristine asked.

"They've been there for weeks, barely made contact and the people back home worry about their families. I'm planning on going with Charlie. Wanna come with?"

"Nah, you guys can handle it. I need to finish my grocery list before returning to the Ranch." A hearty laugh slipped from Jake's lips, eyes crinkling near the edges.

"I'm still shocked and worried you're running these errands for others. I mean old records for Martha? Toys for the kids?" Cristine accepted requests from people who wanted things. They were usually menial stuff, but she didn't mind. It kept her sharp, busy and increased her knowledge of the terrain.

"It helps honing my scouting and tracking skills." Cristine smiled after showing feigned a serious face, only to smile at her friend afterwards.


	2. Chapter 2

Martha squeezed Cristine's hands in gratitude and her eyes curved up, the laughter in her face glowing. "You're such a doll, Cristine. I didn't think you'd actually find it. I thought something like this would've been burned, like most out there ."

Cristine's lips turned inwards, returning the happy simper with a tiny one. "Not everything, it was a little luck too. Glad I could help you and Russell." 

"Are you leaving already? Stay, at least for dinner." Martha urged when she saw Cristine lock her bag and seemed ready to leave. 

"Maybe another time, Martha." Cristine shook her head. It was a busy day and she still needed to drop by her father and Hailey before collecting some lumber, nails etc. for the repairs of her fence.

Martha crossed her arms in front of her chest, as a disapproving look twisted her wrinkled face into something ugly. "Well that's what you say every time. You're worrying your pa you know."

“I’m actually going to visit him after, but I need to go back before the sun sets,” Cristine explained. It was usually the same every time. She barely stayed the nights and would occasionally drop by the Ranch, visit her family greet some people and leave. Cristine was happy with her own place, her own outpost, away from the Ranch and the people. Besides, her family was fine with it and that was all that mattered. Even if the people didn't look at her funny or whispered prejudices anymore, Cristine was happy.

"I know, I know." Martha piped up, her mood had flourished with the record plates she received from Cristine her recent run. Cristine accepted requests not only to keep busy, but she was able to map out the terrain and cover ground the community hadn’t really explored. 

"Just don't be a stranger now!"

After dropping by a few others, Cristine’s face flourished the instany she spotted Hailey. Her little sister cut her long blonde locks to her shoulders. Cristine advised it would be safer if a few inches were gone against the claws of the dead. Increasing the speed in her steps just to erase the distance as quickly as possible, Cristine surprised Hailey with a tickle at her sides. Hailey squealed in horrid surprise and her flushed face, from either the heat or anger, dampened when she realized who it was.

“Cris!” Hailey’s shorter arms locked around her neck with such force, Cristine had to keep both their balance by adding weight to her legs lest they both fall over. Cristine mirrored the tight embrace by wrapping her arms around her middle and her dimpled smile completely erased her serious expression. She was really happy to see her again.

"Glad you turned that fat into muscle."

"You’re such a loser," Hailey complained, face upturned and slapped Cristine on the arm when parting. Unamused by her jab for practically calling her fat since she had no muscles and just flesh in certain areas ignited a fire within Hailey to do the heavier and more physical chores around the Ranch. As a result, the said 'fat' and pliable flesh turned into toned muscle.

"Well this loser motivated you to get in shape for worse times to come. Also, I got you this." Cristine swung her bag over her shoulder and fished out a smaller bag the size of a pair of cupped palms. Before handing it over, Cristine scrutinized the smooth and healthy texture of Hailey's skin and wondered out oud what in the heck she wanted this. "Of all the things you asked me to bring; why do you need make-up?" Hailey swiped the little bag from Cristine's hands and cradled it carefully. "Honestly, you don't need it."

"I do," Hailey quipped softly, blue eyes sparkling like freshly polished gems and Cristine saw her sister's cheeks redden. The expressive emotion reminded Cristine of the world before. When Hailey just started high-school and discovered boys and hormones.

"This person must be really special if you're having me get make-up," Cristine commented and rested a hand on her cocked hip, frowning despite herself. She didn't mind that Hailey was seeing someone, she just hoped her baby sister was careful and didn't put too much effort for thjs guy and he still broke her heart. The stakes were higher now if there were any accidents and that would be even worse.

"It's not that serious."

"Yes it is," Cristine stated.

Hailey vehemently denying such an innocent thing that was part of life a few months ago brought back a sense of nostalgia back. Where they worried about, school, work, relationships both romantic, familial or simple friendships.

"So, are you going to tell me who it is?"

When Hailey seemed to debate whether to tell it or not, Cristine was offended her sister didn't trust her enough to share. She almost wanted to pinch her in the cheek in friendly banter, but snorted, "really? This place is a small community and people gossip. Especially if they have nothing better to do. I'll find out who it is before dawn, let alone daddy."

The mention of their father elicit this comically horrified expression and chewing on her lips, Hailey squeezed the name from between her teeth, "it's Mike."

"…" Cristine's mouth opened, the words on the tip of her tongue, deep-seated frown tightening with the motion, but then she pressed her lips together and kept quiet. The shifting of Cristine's facial expression was stronger than whatever comment and Hailey scowled.

"Don't make that face. We're still getting to know each other." Hailey was unamused by her sister's facial contortion and raised a finger in a threatening manner. "I swear to god Cristine if you let anything slip."

"Just don't forget to do it safe." Still annoyed, Hailey's pink face turned a brighter shade of crimson, wondering why Cristine was always so straight-forward about stuff like that and such a pervert. Biting her lip, Hailey waved her finger and spat back in an accusatory tune.

"What about you and Blake?"

"What about me and Blake?" Cristine asked.

"Remember when you said; if you like someone, you should go for it?" Blue eyes trained on dark brown, calling out the hypocrisy in one hit. "Why haven't you gone for it?"

"Because we're friends," Cristine clicked her tongue and crossed her arms over her chest. The change in her body language and dismissal of her sister only adding more to Hailey’s suspicions.

"Well 'friends' don’t look at each other the way he does. I don’t know what you did or said to him, but he's awestruck.” With the heavy and frustrated sigh came a shoulder drop. Cristine had no idea how this conversation turned into her and Blake. Yet, as usual with Hailey it was always so east to talk about the sentimental and forgettable things. It was the reminisce that the world just wasn’t this cold and merciless place. Tere was space for other things than just food, water, supplies, guns, and survival.

A brief emotion of vulnerability flashed beneath Cristine’s face and Hailey pursed her lips when she saw it. She didn’t mean to push her observations and bring back bad memories. After the last run, Cristine told Hailey what happened. How those men tried to hurt her. That Cristine killed them by a stroke of luck. Hailey had never seen her sister so vulnerable, broken and guarded all at once. She spend those nights with Cristine and they got through that difficult period together. At least, that's what Hailey convinced herself until Cristine volunteered for the outpost, away from the Ranch.

_"Being out there keeps me focused and prepared for when things go bad. And they will."_ Cristine muttered along the lines and Hailey understood that in a sense. But she also felt that Cristine was running away and felt ashamed and humiliated by what happened. So she hid in her new place, away from people. Their father tried to stop Cristine, he almost did, but she still changed her mind at the last moment. The Ranch wasn't the same without Cristine. Hailey missed her. There was this wall she put up around her again and this one felt impenetrable and detached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and light chapter. I love writing Cristine and Hailey together. They always manage to make me write about the normal and hopeful things of being alive and safe.
> 
> What're y'alls thought on these budding/potential relationships? You're free to interpret them as romantic or not.


	3. Chapter 3

As the days progressed, the weather remained the same. The sun penetrated through the bones, its heat radiating into the heavy day. Cristine worked until her skin took on a glossy shine on her complexion that bronzed over time into a rich brown. As she kept fastening the barbed wires together, the progress of her fortified fences were visible. She strengthened half of the extending acres and it took her all morning. 

Stretching the arms of her muscles it was then that Cristine felt how wet her clothing had become, sticking onto her skin like a second layer. If Hailey could see her, she'd freak out. Amid the activity, the faint wind occasionally whispered. It tugged at the pulled back curls brushing against her nape, but Cristine brushed it aside with an irked motion. Just as she collected the tools from her shed to start with her little patch of planted crops, Cristine pinched her eyes together when she noted three slumping figures in the horizon treading towards her property. 

Cristine slammed her bedroom door open and pointed Jake in the direction of her single bed. He carried the unconscious woman into her room and gently placed her on the bed. In the meantime Cristine rummaged through the cabinets for the emergency kit. From her peripheral she saw the adolescent awkwardly standing by herself, confused as to what to do. She seemes to be around, or a bit younger than Hailey. 

"What's your name?" Cristine scooped out the gauze, but in the meantime divided her attention between the simple task and the slightly startled girl. The grime and blood on her face cast uneven patches of shadows on her and her faint hollowed out cheekbones brought out her blue eyes, giving her a slightly malnourished feel. 

"Alicia." 

"Alicia, I need you to help me with your friend. Can you do that?" Cristine nodded, at least Alicia wasn't as spooked as she looked. "What's your friend's name?" 

"Luciana." Alicia took a hesitant step forward and glanced at Jake for silent confirmation. He gave her a nod back to assure her the woman was worth trusting and knew what she was talking about. The tense muscles of her body slowly unfolded when talking about treating Luciana's wounds. "Her name is Luciana," Alicia repeated, her voice stronger when organizing her thoughts. 

"Alright, I need to control the bleeding of Luciana's wounds or she'll go in shock, but I need your help. Can you help me with that Alicia?" 

"I can. I have some experience from volunteering at the County USC through high school." Alicia nodded and elaborated much to both Jake's and Cristine's surprise. 

"Those are some good credentials," Cristine said impressed before handing her some more gauze and antibiotics whilst she took some tweezers and put on a pair disposable gloves. "USC is- was one largest public hospitals and medical training centers in the country, and the largest single provider of healthcare in Los Angeles county." 

"You're a doctor?" Alicia asked curiously. It wouldn't be surprising if she did given the manner in which she spoke. Doctors were very hard to come by and every community would be wise to cherish anyone with medical experience. Even volunteer nurses such as herself. 

"I went there a few times during my residency training. I studied infectious diseases," Cristine paused a beat when she found herself rambling and brought her gaze back to the unconscious Luciana. The woman was burning with a fever and her breaths were labored and faint. "So yes, I'm a doctor now." 

Cristine looked in the direction of Alicia seated at the bedside of her friend Luciana. Most of the shrapnel of the bullet was removed, Luciana's shoulder was bandaged, and the bleeding stilled. The woman was unconscious but with her current state, they needed to bring her to the Ranch. There was better equipment there and she just brought a new stash of medical supplies on her last run to their infirmary. Leaning against the casing of the front door, Cristine handed Jake a bottle of water as the two stood by themselves to talk. After tending to her unexpected patient and checking the others, Cristine noted it was just Jake and these two strangers. No Charlie, no helicopter, no one else Not to mention they were worse for wear and looked as if they returned from a war. 

"What happened?" 

Jake sighed his response tepid as his shoulders bounced indifferently. "The fuel depot got overrun. We lost a lot of people and had to evacuate. On the way back, we got shot down, lost hydraulics and had to do an emergency landing. We decided of double timing it back home, but it was best to come to your place since you got a vehicle and supplies." As always, Jake was trying to stay strong. Cristine saw it in the way his shoulders dipped and how his jaw clenched to keep whatever emotions about his god niece bottled up. She wouldn't pry, given that she was the exact same way of breaking down in front of others. That was reserved for private moments. "Charlie didn't make it. Told her to watch the draws west of the trails- she, uh- she got tangled with some dead. I put her down." 

"Shit," Cristine wasn't as close to Charlie as Jake, but she was getting to know her. Charlene was a true belle and tomboy at heart. She helped with the training of the new recruits and somewhere, she somehow labeled Cristine as her partner, until that grew into a new friendship. At first, Cristine was wary of the blondes' angle as they had no real reason to interact. That, and she called Jeremiah her god uncle which was a red flag to her. Birds of a feather and everything, but Charlene proved to look past all of that. It probably helped that Jake probably put in a good word here and there. 

"_Well, you're part of our community and we look out for each other," _Charlene had said with an easy smile before she brandished her blade and sprinted in the direction of the handful of infected on Cristine's plot of land. Somewhere, Cristine buried her annoyance, as it wouldn't scare Charlene away. The woman was pretty alright once Cristine got to know her. Eventually she lost track of how often Charlene visited her outpost. Charlene did it for the change of scenery or simply when she wanted someone to listen to her other than her usual friends or her family. 

"How are you?" Cristine asked Jake after silently reminiscing over Charlie's undeserving fate. 

"I don't know how to tell the Daley's. We've known each other since we were kids... they're family and- now Pat and Dax have to do it without Charlie." Jake was an expert at deflecting when it came to talking about how he truly felt. He rather take everyone else's pain on his shoulders than face his own. Cristine wasn't surprised by his response and his deflection of the question. "I'm just glad you were able to help us and Luciana." 

"New people, huh?" Glancing back, Cristine's eyes lingered on Luciana. Seeing the woman of Mexican descent laying there, Cristine could only think how her presence would be met with resistance before anything else. "What will happen to her?" 

"You worried about the people back home?" 

"Aren't you?" There would always be hurt and disdain for what Cristine had to go through in spite of finding her place and peace. Cristine wouldn't want anyone to go through what she had. So the protective feeling towards a person she barely knew blossomed unknowingly. "They can refuse her or make sure she leaves one way or another." 

Jake shook his head and assured her, his voice betraying his exhaustion. "Troy and the rest won't do anything rash or stupid. We've lost more than just Charlie. Once I tell my dad what happened, he'll make sure to set things straight." 

"Troy and the rest ever explain why it took them so long to get back?" Her inquiry was more rhetorical since she didn't have to hear Jake's answer to know it was the experiments. It was always the experiments and nothing was going to change that. Perhaps a slap on the wrist from Jeremiah, but other than that no real consequences. Jake would quietly accept them too and it pissed Cristine off. 

"..." Jake's silence was just a confirmation that things would simply continue as they did before. 

"Didn't think so either. So let's not make any reassurances when we both know this situation won't have any ramifications. Everyone was fine with it at the start and they'll be fine with it now. People just don't want it to be shoved in their faces." 


	4. Chapter 4

Cristine prepared her final RME's for Jake and Alicia and she was pleased to see both still had the appetite to wolf it down like it was their final meal. She leaned against the small kitchen counter, arms crossed when her expression shifted into a pensive one. Racking her mind to puzzle together Jake's story together. Someone shot the helicopter down, which either meant it was a crazy person or this was deliberate. Being one to lean in favor of worst case scenarios, Cristine assumed this attack was deliberate. Even if she didn't any spot suspicious activity, the area was so vast not even she could say that with all certainty. _"Best thing to do is map out the area where the helicopter got shot down and mark down every area that can be a potential hiding place and start from there." _

"I called in back home. Troy and the rest arrived a two days ago." Jake reentered from the side room where Cristine and Charlie set up her amateur communication hotspot. It had a much stronger range to reach people on runs, the Ranch, and outpost Alpha owned by McCarthy. It was a fun little project the two women worked on.

"My mom and brother?" Alicia inquired. Her voice stronger than when Cristine first set eye on her. "Are they safe?" Jake's confirmed nod visibly squeezed out the adolescent her last anxieties and doubts from her body and mood. "So what now?"

Jake glanced at Cristine who in turn looked in the direction of her room, where her weakened patient slept. Uncrossing her arms, she rubbed her nape and sighed. "We've stopped the bleeding, but Lucianna needs better treatment. I don't have the supplies or equipment here."

"And the helicopter?" Alicia looked between them, eyes lingering on Jake since he probably knew more. Cristine realized Alicia Clark was a level-headed person and very mature for her age. She and her family made it this far in the apocalypse and Cristine got curious of how her brother and mother were.

As usual, Jake half deflected the answer and gave one his ready-to-use diplomatic responses. "We have people to scout the rampage site out. Priority is to get Luciana treated and reunited with our families. We'll get to the bottom of this attack when we know who we're dealing with."

-

Unfortunately, it was one emergency replaced with one inconvenience. Cristine hadn't seen Troy for weeks and the first welcome was a needless confrontation and discussion about Luciana's life. He currently held his pistol in his hand, convinced the woman wasn't going to make it and had to be ended. With his gaze narrowed, he held her defiant gaze under scrutiny.

"Cristine you know the rules, move." Unmoved by her adamancy to bring the Mexican woman in, Troy pulled the slide of the gun backwards and pressed the hammer down with his thumb.

Cristine didn't budge at his order, her tone as non-negotiable as his, "she has a pulse and will make it if the rest of her wounds are treated."

"You want to get feasted on be my guest, but you're not taking her past these gates." Troy continued, "we take her to the infirmary, she may turn. It's against policy. Better to just put her out of her misery."

_"Damn hypocrites!"_ Cristine shifted her upper body forward, protectively when Troy began to walk closer to her and Luciana.

"It's your fault she's like this! You shot her," Nick accused Troy, aghast by the sudden turn of events.

"I was defending my people." Troy callously stated with a shake of his head, "I know what to do. Out of the way." He gave Cristine a look and repeated, "out of the way."

Nick was already on his feet, face to face, staring down each other; one prepared to kill Luciana and the other determined to protect her. Cristine bit the inside of her cheek as she heard Troy cock the gun.

"Cristine out of the way or-"

"I'll do it," Nick ushered in defeat, his voice on the edge after repeating his plea. "I'm allowed this."

Cristine looked down at the burning Luciana, her breaths very shallow and barely there. She touched her forehead and bit the inside of her lower lip, shook her head with dismay, patted her pants and rose. If her boyfriend wanted to end her life as final mercy, who was she to dent him his decision. For Nick to give in so easily was rather odd and she scrutinized the back of his body and Troy's taller one. The latter glanced down at the cocked gun in his right hand, that was just an inch from being pointed at Luciana. His finger rested on the trigger, ready to discharge a bullet through the woman's brain. She saw him suck in his breath, seemingly upset or disappointed he couldn't do the deed.

"All right," Troy bobbed his head down, coming to terms that it wasn't his right and handed the gun to Nick and walked back to Jake and his father. Cristine stayed rooted to the ground, her eyes staring at Luciana's unconscious form. She heard a set of gasps, forcing her to look away from her. Her eyes twitching when she saw Nick with his gun pointed at Troy. His voice shook as he pleaded for them to let Luciana in. Even Madison had tried persuading her son to put down the weapon but to no avail.

"Go on, listen to your mommy." Troy taunted. Jeremiah stepped into the line of fire and managed to handle the situation, promising Nick to allow Luciana in and get her the treatment she needed, so long as she had a pulse.

"I checked and she does." Cristine her voice was stern, factual as she clarified it again, "she'll make it." Once the gun was taken out of Nick's hand and a few medics rushed to get Luciana in, the crowd started to disperse. Cristine gave them some instructions on their way to the infirmary, storming past Troy.

Troy scoffed in annoyance and yelled over his shoulder, "make sure she's cuffed!"

-

Cristine work was conscientious, aiming to mend the trauma. Luckily the bleeding itself already ceased from the earlier treatment, but the surrounding fleshy area was red andirritated. Cristine cleaned the area and smeared a cream on it. "It will help her wound from getting infected," Cristine explained and quickly switched to fixing the stitches before placing a bandage over the injury. She pushed at it and lifted her gaze at the tanned younger man anxiously watching her work.

"Nick, right?"

"Yeah." Cristine ignored the shakiness behind his voice and tipped her head at the gauze and instructed him, "I need you to help me put pressure on it. I'll have to inject Luciana with a shot for her fever before putting her stitches back," Cristine explained and made eye contact with Nick. She watched his fingers curl and uncurl before sliding his hands over the red covering. "Put more pressure on it. Like this." Cristine pressed her palms on top of his hands and exerted more force so he could create the right grip. After she was sure Nick put enough pressure, she took a syringe and ejected the contents.

Nick's judgement of the woman turned positive. She was eager to save Luciana whereas these people were indifferent to his girlfriend's state, despite it being caused by one of their own. A calmness shrouded the woman's body even as her eyebrows donned a small frown. "Thank you," Nick couldn't help but express softly, ironically thanking her for the ounce of humanity she showed to a stranger. She didn't have to, but between the crowd of wary Ranchers, she not only checked on Luciana and stood up to her assaulter, but also saved Alicia.

A harsh sound of fabric getting pulled aside near the closed entrance of the infirmary tent caused Nick's attention to move to that unbearable face, his dark brown gaze clashed with a single blue iris. A coal of anger poked in the back of Nick's head, his fingers itched to spread that red on his eyepatch to the rest of that face. Nick wanted to make Troy pay for the hell he caused him and his loved ones. He regretted not having pulled the trigger earlier.

Cristine, on the other hand, focused on bandaging Luciana again and cleaning the rest of her superficial scratches. She was too busy to even break her focus by the unannounced, but expected visit of Troy. He had come to check on things - Luciana and Nick were strangers and the latter pointed a gun at him with the bold demand they treat his girlfriend. Cristine wasn't worried or concerned about Nick or what he'd do. He was soft. The young man wasn't a killer, she saw it in his eyes and the way he behaved. Additionally, Cristine was the one willing to treat Luciana and his family in a community that didn't take too kindly to strangers. He'd be crazy to threaten anyone else or do something to jeopardize his family's overall safety.

A blue iris darted to patient and nurse. Quickly, the edges of Troy's twisted into a scowl. This waste didn't deserve to have their stuff used on. He disliked his father making such a decision. Troy was also bothered with Cristine defying him for a stranger. Someone with no worth that could turn no less. It was uncharacteristically sentimental of her. Troy hadn't come to check on Cristine, he simply wanted to make sure the protocols were followed. His cold glare rested on the weak body and he gnashes his teeth harshly over his lip to see she wasn't fastened down.

"Why isn't she cuffed?" He demanded snidely, the irritation on his face apparent.

Much to his growing chagrin, Cristine didn't look up once when she answered coolly, "as you can see, the treatment is more important."

"Cut the crap Cristine. You know the rules best out of everyone." Troy's words were taunting, reminding her of the time she was brought to the Ranch. Cuffed to a bed and not allowed any freedom. Not because they thought she would turn, but because of the color of her skin and to most a liability. It was only later that the sick and wounded were cuffed; the potential threats.

If Cristine was insulted by his hateful words, she didn't show it. "Not as if she's going to run."

"Don't get smart."

Nick regretted not having a weapon on him, his anger only reaching it's boiling point the longer he looked at this insane murderer. None of them; not him, his mom, sister, Luciana or Travis would have had to suffer half the things if Troy and his militia were hell bent on proving useless theories. Nick kept his sharp gaze trained on the scene playing out in front of him. The heavy tension between Troy and Cristine not something he could quite put his finger on. But he wasn't going to step in. Nick didn't want to risk angering a volatile Troy and ruin Luciana's chance to receive proper treatment.

Troy's glower darkened, but he didn't say anything for a while. It was the first time he'd seen Cristine ever since they returned from the depot. There were many things he wanted to say and have clarified, but Madison's son was here. So, Troy reached for the cuffs around his pants loops, unhooked them and with a sharp sound locked the cold restraints around the iron bar and Luciana's wrist.

Cristine, used to the behavior, didn't bat an eye at what Troy did. She didn't pause or hesitate in her work and her voice was even, when speaking, "Nick can you get me more gauze for the bleeding? It's on the shelves behind you. Second row down from the top."

Nick swallowed thickly when he felt a strong glare on his face, he avoided it in time to look for the gauze. Nothing else mattered but getting Luciana back to her feet. Still, he felt that Cristine was playing with fire with such indifference towards an easily irked Troy. Even as he scoured for the bandages, he watched the interaction between the two from his peripheral.

"Be pissed all you want," Troy hissed, now deliberately entering her working space so Cristine had to stop and acknowledge him. His lips tilted inward when she rolled her eyes up at him and didn't back down from his glare. Good. She was still the person who gladly accepted a challenge. The flecks of dark brown glistened from the daylight. Troy purposely slouched his body, showing a lazy nonchalance. "I did what I had to do." Troy glanced at her passed out patient. He flashed his teeth, amused as he recalled the day. The smile didn't match the following cruel words he spoke so enthused and casual, "you should've been there, y'know for old times sake. We could've timed someone like you. I mean, I haven't come across a person with your genealogy yet to document and compa-"

"Here you go," Nick interjected strongly, interrupting the one sided conversation that didn't leave much to the imagination of its abnormality and twistedness. Even he got scared for the undaunted Cristine.

Troy feigned to roll his eyes at Nick's response and stared down at Cristine again with his dangerously casual smile. "Make sure you keep those cuffs on for your and our new guest's their sake alright?" Troy's simper dropped as quickly as it came and switched his attention between Nick then Luciana, before leaving with a scoff.

After exiting the infirmary, Nick cautiously observed the silent Cristine. He didn't care for any of the Ranchers, but as far as Nick could judge Cristine was one of the good ones. Her being allowed here, meant she must have a special type of relationship with the place. Still, why did she accept such treatment by Troy? Because of some walls, a farm, and a militia to protect? Was she aware of what was done at the depot? How the people here operated? Lie his mother said, they'd probably have to exploit this place to keep themselves safe. Especially cause Travis died to save his ass.

"Thanks again... and sorry about that." The older woman's neutral disposition made Nick's eyes glisten with interest. Her dark eyes on him were swift, but there was a mutual understanding of the situation present on her features. It leveled out his nerves and softened his anger. Cristine slumped over near the bed and silently proceeded to care for his girlfriend. She didn't let Troy's taunts get to her, as irrational and harsh as they were. She wasn't easily spooked or intimidated and had a strength that reminded Nick of his mother.

"Luciana will wake up in a couple of days."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	5. Chapter 5

"You really didn't have to come with me." Cristine glanced at Blake who shrugged behind the steering wheel. She quickly needed to drop by her outpost to get some of her stuff, after having decided she'd stay on the Ranch longer. Mainly for Luciana. The unconscious woman really needed it with her fluctuating state. With an unknown threat, Blake just jumped in her truck when he saw her about to leave.

"It's safer and need I remind you this is what friends are for," Blake responded teasingly while tapping the leather steering wheel with his fingers. It was also an escape with all that happened. The militia lost more than a few people back there when the dead marched in. He was very lucky to be amongst one of the living. "Besides, I know you missed me."

"Yup, I missed you as much as having a tooth pulled," Cristine responded indifferently, but Blake knew she was joking and laughed. Their friendship was filled with jabs, mostly from Cristine and Blake just took pleasure in riling the woman up.

It took about an hour before Blake parked the truck within the gates of the outpost. It was empty, but the well maintained land, crops and fortified fences showed it wasn't desolate. Blake followed Cristine inside and plopped down on one of the chairs while Cristine grabbed some of her stuff.

"You know you could've just borrowed some clothes from someone back home." Blake reminded when hearing the woman rummage through her closet and pack some of her belongings and occasionaly appeared only to vanish into another room again.

"I'm not here for the clothes."

"Then why?" Cristime reappeared with her duffle bag over her shoulder and placed it on top of the table where Blake sat in a lazy pose. Rummaging through the contents Blake curiously tried to make out what it was she wanted to show him. Fishing out what seemed to be a book of some kind Blake arched a brow before taking it. When he opened it to the first page, Blake's eyes widened in surprise and disbelief. "Where'd you-" he quickly looked up at Cristine.

"Charlie made those." Cristine clarified, "found a Polaroid camera and sort of stalked her mom and Dax when they weren't looking. Those nights she stayed with me wasn't just girl's night or whatever. It was to work on this photobook cause Mrs. Daley's birthday was coming up." Blake silently browsed through the pictures. He'd gotten to know Charlie cause she, himz and Jake often visited Cristine. The woman was as much of a badass as Cristine. Flicking his tongue against his teeth, Blake sighed heavily and looked back at his friend. Now it made sense why Cristine was so adamant to come here when it was as much of a risk. She wanted to give this photo book to Mrs. Daley, because it was the last memory of her dead daughter.

"It wasn't finished, but now she'll have something recent Charlie made for her." Cristine shifted on her legs and with a mellow expression hoisted the duffle bag on her shoulder. "There's no body to bury and... this is.. uh-" trailing off Cristine sucked in a sharp breath before fumbling with her hands and shrugged, facial expression difficult to keep neutral.

"We'll get the asshole who attacked. Make 'em pay for what they did." Blake shut the picture book and returned it.

-

The rest of the day was mostly recuperation for part of the militia that returned. The fuel tanks were refilled from the last run, patrol got stricter and a small group went to McCarthy's to check on the site where the helicopter got shot down. The mood was dour and tensions were high over the fact that the Ranch lost more members than Charlie.

Cristine watched Charlene's mother quietly browse through the picture book. The elder woman's eyes were red from the continuous crying. The loss aged her considerably and Cristine clenched her hands together. With the world as unpredictable as it was, death was a constant shadow lurking over them all. But no parent wanted to bury a child before themselves, no matter the situation.

"Thank you Cristine," Pat wiped the new droplets from her cheeks, voice hoarse and croaky. "I can't believe she made all of these."

"She's been working on it for weeks. Charlie was positive you'd find it here, so she left it my place."

"Explains all the frequent trips and sleepovers at yours too." Looking up Pat flashed a wan smile that didn't last as long as she wished. "I can't believe my little angel is gone."

"I know you don't want to hear sorry and empty words, but Charlene didn't deserve this. The only thing we can do is track this threat down and deal with it."

"I know... I just- I only have Dax and he's not really talking to me right now. After my husband passed, it's been the three of us and Charlie was the glue that made sure we remembered the happy things. She drove Dax crazy, but in the end he always gave in to his big sister."

"She's pushy like that," Cristine added softly and reached for Mrs. Daley's hand and squeezed it tightly. "You and Dax still have each other and this place. He needs his space, but me and the guys will look after him."

-

"I assume you'll be staying here for a while with your new patient and this nut job." James helped Cristine with her duffle bag. Father and daughter ambled to her old cabin. Jake assured her that it was technically still hers despite practically living at outpost Beta. It felt as if she hadn't been here in ages and didn't mind that it was located so far away from the rest. It was quiet and very much liked the privacy in this community. It was nearly midnight after she switched shifts with one of the medics and visited Mrs. Daley, she was surprised to see her father.

"It's safer. Me and Blake disassembled the radio station just in case. Don't want whoever this is to listen in on us."

James nodded, the dimpled smile on his face wrinkling his face, but he didn't hide the happiness of having Cristine here. Not after she did leave in spite of his protest and her coming clean over what happened on her first and last run with Troy and the militia. "That's good. I rather you stayed here indefinitely, instead of there all by yourself."

"I love it." Cristine shrugged casually. "My very own place. And it wasn't as if I didn't drop by every few days to visit."

"I know. I just missed you a lot Birdie and so did Hailey. Dolores has been saying nothing but nice things. Never seen her so proud."

"Hm," Cristine hummed, lips thinning int a straight line. _"She's only saying nice things cause it'll look bad if she doesn't. She's glad my ass wasn't around the place and so was I."_ Her thoughts trailed off so she missed her father's words, whipping her head at him with a glazed look in her eyes."What?"

"The four of us should have dinner. Like old time's sake," James repeated and stopped when the two of them arrived at her cabin. Cristine didn't expect the offer, even if she should have. She had her own reasons to go back to her outpost before dinner time and it wasn't just because she didn't want to travel at nighttime. Cristine wanted to avoid doing stuff like... this. Play house and ignore things were fine when they really weren't. It wasn't just Dolores, but her father too. He was the main reason she left for outpost beta in the first place and Cristine didn't want to forgive and forget when they didn't talk about the elephant in the room. James was secretly appalled by what she'd done on her run with Troy and the gang. He'd try to hid the horror in his face, but his eyes spoke volume. James was disgusted with her and instead of the comfort she expected him to give her, the same comfort her baby sister had, there was nothing.

"Maybe another time daddy," Cristine answered softly and took the bag from her father. She saw that he wanted to say more, but she shook her head. "I'm tired. It's been a long day and I need sleep. We'll rain check it." That seemed to appease her father. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around her and planted a kiss on her temple. The firm hug broadcast his solemnity and the fatherly love Cristine wished he'd always show her. Cristine pressed her face into his shoulder and squeezed her eyes shut to enjoy the warmth.

"You get your rest Birdie. I'm happy you're here where it's safe."

-

Cristine dropped on her mattres with a satisfied groan, body molding into the soft surface. She didn't realize how tired she really was now that the day was over and she was by herself. Cristine just showered and changed into a long sleeved shirt and sleeping pants Charlene gave to her. Tending to Luciana took most of her time today. She declined any nightly activities from the guys. She was exhausted and wanted to relax; sharpen her knife or maybe even read one of the books Jake lend her. Just as she was going to do the latter, a loud knock on her door stopped her from finding a comfortable position in her bed.

"Ugh," Cristine wanted to ignore it, but the lights were on so she asked in a half annoyed tone, "who is it?"

"Troy." Cristine rolled her eyes so hard, it was a wonder they didn't get stuck in the sockets. After Troy's pathetic display regarding Luciana and Nick, Cristine hadn't seen him for the rest of the day. She didn't think he would come, hell, ever since she left for outpost beta Troy was too busy with his militia. Even when she visited the Ranch, he'd gotten standoffish with her. And Cristine wasn't going to beg him for attention, she rather liked it that way too. So it surprised her Troy personally visited her this late at night. With his annoyance towards her, it was only a matter of time until things would escalate, so Cristine sucked up her grogginess and mentally and physically prepared herself for the discussion to come. It wouldn't be the first time. It's just been a while since she spoke to the man.

A moment later, Cristine's feet thudded on the wood. The well-known door handle, which always frustrated her didn't turn properly and was as stiff as ever. Cristine opened the door and his eye was the first thing she saw. Its blue darker because of the lack of light and his pupil stretched. He wiped his palm against his pants, still wet from washing. When she stood in the half open entryway, she noted Troy slightly relaxing when he lowered his gaze. Her face and body slackened, mirroring his stance. The arm that held the door handle was slack. Troy was half sure she'd slam it in his face given their scuffle earlier. He saw the curious glint when observing the bandage on his right eye. The emotion quickly dissolved and Cristine leaned against the door's casing, clear by her disposition that she was tired, but open to hear him out.

"Rough day, huh?" It was funny to see her roll her eyes at his attempt at small talk that was a little taunting and a little forced. The fact he still had such an effect on her was hilarious. Her dark eyes never strayed, as if removing her gaze from his would be the same as defeat. Cristine was silent, not even a hello, a sneer, or a how do you do. Hell, its been weeks since they conversed. Most of the information relayed from either Jake or Blake. Even Mike was in the loop cause of his vague relationship with Hailey. "I get it helping people is tiring."

"Who did you help? Sounds to me your run went to shit." Cristine sounded crabby and disinterested.

"I picked new people for the community. Since we're building something, we need them. Sure, at the end it was a bit chaotic, but we made it. Even miss Baja." The last part of his sentence just oozed annoyance and disdain all over. When things bothered Troy, it was noticeable in the manner in which he spoke. Troy was vocal about not wanting Luciana or her boyfriend here. But why vent to her? Jeremiah made that call.

"Who you clearly didn't pick... is that what you want to talk about? My patient?" Cristine wet her lips and crossed her arms over her chest, blocking out some of the chilly wind. "Your father made the call to let her in."

"She's a waste of supplies."

"Those are my supplies. Don't you worry, I made sure to use the stuff I found and added them to what my family contributes."

Troy scoffed, briefly looking away and clinching his jaw. Cristine didn't miss all the tiny signs of him pushing down his annoyance. As if he was holding back his true feelings about this situation so his next comment was just spiteful. "As always, you're bending the rules as you feel like it."

"Just get to the point Troy." Cristine wasn't gullible or dumb. Troy didn't come here to talk Luciana or whatever. He didn't care about that. He wanted to maks them miserable. "We lost people. You lost your godniece and you're keeping me awake with bullshit. What is it?"

Since Cristine was very direct and didn't seem to plan on playing his game, so Troy sighed, "Alright, alright. I need to know if you've seen something- anything in the time you've been out."

"I haven't." Cristine was intelligent enough to put two and two together. Troy was as restless by the helicopter attacked as her. Straightening her pose she continued with a shake of the head, "I mapped out a radius of the area of the crash site. There are a few paces people can use as their strongholds. I showed it to McCarthy, but he wasn't convinced it was larger than the work of some nutjob."

"But you don't believe that." Cristine shrugged at his statement, eyes peering back with a calculated certainty that she weighed out other possibilities too. Troy had been pondering this attack while his father and Jake waited for McCarthy to call in.

"I believe we need to play out all possible scenarios on this. Remember Ben and his friends? Just cause we have a militia that's stronger than before does not mean we need to sit and wait. Whoever this is, drew first blood and we would be stupid not to be prepared for the worst. Even if it's the job of a single person."

As difficult as it was for Troy to strike a casual conversation with Cristine about everything not linked to survival, he could always count on the woman's pragmatic and realistic view of things. They lost and mourned, yes, but they'd have to put all emotions on the backburner. People like Vernon and James were already questioning this attack, but Big Otto wanted caution. People were anxious and their vigilance increased. "My father wants to hold off until we know more. Jake agrees, of course."

"I get that," Cristine nodded but also added, "but that doesn't mean the militia needs to slack off. If we increase patrol and roate some in the sentry tower outside, it's a start."

Troy nodded in agreement as her suggestions were already things Troy put in place. He stared at the shorter woman for one long moment, almost doubtful, until he proposed, "if you're gonna stay, I can add you to the roster too."

"I'm free to do the night patrols since I have the morning shifts at the infirmary." Cristine softly rubbed the back of her nape with her palm from having to keep looking at Troy. His visit actually turned out decently im the end, which was a surprise in itself, but Cristine wasn't as annoyed with Troy for bringing up this possibly threatening situation.

They'd have to be prepared for anything, even an all out war or this place getting overrun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	6. - Cristine & Luciana

Cristine quietly arranged the medical supplies she'd taken from the pantry, trying to be as quiet as possible for Luciana. She woke up yesterday night when it wasn't her shift, frenzied, startled by strangers, and cuffed to a bed. It wasn't until Nick appeased his girlfriend and calmed her that she calmed down. The woman close to her age watched Cristine work with suspicion. It didn't faze Cristine, as her reaction would have been the exact same. Luciana's distrust was fair. The way Nick explained the story was that their Colonia crossed the border for somewhere safe and were attacked by Troy and his men. Luciana had literally been at the edge of death not to simply defend his people. His obsession with the infected had grown into something worse since she stopped volunteering and manned her outpost. She'd hear from Hailey, who had it from Mike, that the youngest Otto was testing people of varying body types, ages, health, and ethnic backgrounds. Even Mike stopped going to the long runs to avoid the experimenting.

Luciana response to getting shot first, then nursed by the very type of people who injured her and killed her people was understandable. Cristine didn't blame her caution, but she didn't want to eat. Storing some of the cleaned surgery tools with disinfectant, she decided to address her, "you don't look like someone who wastes food for no reason. You need to eat and regain your strenght if you're about to do something like attack me or my peers."

Luciana's scowl twisted before turning her neck so she didn't have to look at her caretaker. Cristine also shifted her gaze from her patient and put the last of the sterilized instruments back on the shelves where they belonged. "The only one who cares if you live or not are Nick and his family."

"No one forced you to save me," she snapped in an accusatory tone, her Spanish accent thick when she spoke in English.

**"In a place like this, people like us need to look out for each other."** Luciana's eyes widened in surprise when Cristine spoke her native language, but the casual drop of some of her letters and the light blending of her sentences into a single word made her recognize the different accent.

**"You're Cuban?"** Luciana guessed, switching to her mother tongue and scrutinized the woman of mixed heritage up and down. She was both taken aback by Cristine's presence in such a foul and unwelcoming place and curious as to why she would willingly stay here.

Cristine shuffled on her feet and turned her body slightly in Luciana's direction and said with a forlorn smile, "my mother." Cristine pulled out the chair from behind the medium sized desk and took a seat.

The revelation had taken Luciana off-guard, but unconsciously she couldn't help but look at the woman with heightened incredulity. It felt like a ploy to make her lower her defenses by using someone that looked like her against her. Cristine scoffed, as if she read Luciana's thoughts. "Don't worry, they don't have that much free time to be worried about you or me. I just wanted to distract you and urge you to eat. I'm not too keen about stubborn patients and equally stubborn boyfriends breathing in my neck when I'm trying to do my job." Luciana glanced in the direction of the tray filled with vegetables, meat, a side of mashed potatoes and a cup of water. She was extremely hungry and it would be foolish not to take advantage of an easily attained meal.

Cristine glanced in the direction of the entrance, took her writing board and shuffled to her feet and walked towards an alert Luciana. **"I'll discharge you since you're in the clear and we can remove those cuffs,"** she switched back to Spanish and scribbled some observations on the paper. **"Most of the people here are sheep."** Luciana's eyes flicked in the direction of the portable tent's closed flap and saw the shadow of a figure lingering there. Snapping her eyes back in the direction of the curly haired brunette who pretended to examine her, she listened to the calm and well-meant advice, **"if you decide to stay, tell your family to think about how they will earn their keep."** Luciana's wide and dewy onyx eyes meet the unwavering ones. **"Exploit what you need so that you survive and plan your next steps carefully."**

**"They killed my people."** A single tear slipped down her cheek and Luciana's breaths came in shallow pants when she remembered that filthy depo with fresh corpses both inside and out. She remembered the excruciating pain, the sweat, gunpowder and metal aftertaste of blood on her tongue that continuously lingered in the air.

"**These monsters killed my people, my only family as if they were nothing."** She raised her nose and the disdain, now mixed with harsh judgement returned inside her eyes. **"How can you stay in such a place?! You're the same as these ****so called** **sheep!"**

Cristine stopped writing from the accusation, she didn't think of herself as being like the Ranchers and didn't like that Luciana compared her to them. She paused, rethinking her response and felt the corner of her lip twitch. Then again, while she condemned Troy and the militia, she hadn't tried to stop them after that family anymore. So maybe the woman was right.

"This was when they shot me when I tried to run," Cristine lifted her left leg and rolled up the ends of her pants and showed Luciana the faded scar of a bullet wound. After she lowered her leg, she revealed her skin to display the same trauma on the side of her neck, "this when I tried to act like the gallant hero. People like that are the first to die."

"Yet you stay." Luciana couldn't feel bad when she knew that her doctor stayed despite all that. 

Cristine lowered her eyes and a ghost of a smile floated on her otherwise expressionless face. "I earned _my_ keep and I stay for my family. They are the only ones I have left. Would you leave your family in a world gone mad?"

**"If it was for my safety and sanity, I would."**


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, during Charlene's memorial service Cristine sat with her family. She was one of the first to arrive at the service. Charlene – the nagging girl she'd eventually come to see as a friend – wasn't here anymore. Sitting now, in a ambience of heartache and sobbing, Cristine couldn't help but feel it was a grim truth to accept. Charlene didn't deserve any this and she missed one of her few female friends dearly. If she were here, alive, Charlene would have nagged at her to socialize and stay the night for some hick party the Ranch occasionally had. It felt strange to hear everyone talk about her. Talk about her contribution, her role and what she meant. Her own mother passed when she was young so it wasn't exactly the same. But since the apocalypse Cristine shed tears. For colleagues that turned, her mentor, and people from her last group. But now, that all felt like ages ago even if it was barely three months in the new world. This type of grief was different. Cristine hadn't lost a direct family member to understand the raw pain of Pat and Dax, hoped she didn't have to. But losing a friend made the brunette clench her hands together until her muscles pulled taut. Staring at the photograph, Cristine bit the inside of her cheek. Just a single portrait of a younger Charlene. Her body left in the wasteland. Jake gave her some sort of burial, but they didn't have time to spare with the injured Luciana.

"I was in the dining room dry-canning beans when an angel fell from the damn sky and crashed in my back yard," Pat spoke smoothly, sharing the story of a twelve year old Charlene. The story so much in character for the girl of many skills, the most prominent one her being a helicopter pilot. Pat continued, the grief cracking her voice, "she broke her arm in two places, but never cried," her mother did the same, not allowing her heart ache on full display. As if Charlene would have hated to know she was cried for. "She embodied the spirit of this place. The always ready, never quit, get it right this time spirit."

"And she would have if she wasn't risking her life for the unprepared." The flame that contained anger was noticeable on Pat's face. Her glare towards the Clark family, who were seated in the exact same row as Cristine and her family. The tension in the once grievous atmosphere turned tense within a secon when the distinct murmurs started to buzz incoherently.

Cristine looked at them and Madison, the mother, was quick to respond. She rose from her seat to introduce herself and her children, to the community. "We lost someone too. Travis... he was our compass." Madison tilted her head faintly, the sincerity of her emotions in her body language and face. Still, Cristine noticed how perfect Madison Clark looked and how calculated she articulated herself. Pretend and endure, but with caution. If she remembered Jake's words correctly, the mother and family survived since the start. Which meant Madison and her family being alive and well until today entailed they knew exactly what it took to survive. So unlike Cristine, if Madison needed to feign pleasantries and manners with a community that looked down on the unprepared, Cristine had the feeling Madison would play the game. It was probably why Troy handpicked this family himself. She found the mother's courage admirable; to face a crowd who had such an apparent distaste. But Madison was a mother and mothers did everything for their children. Cristine wondered if her mother would have done the same for her. But that thought quickly left her mind and she grasped the back of her seat to watch Madison her 'performance' with a strange sense of interest. Madison showed everyone that she too was a victim.

-

  
Cristine was lost in thought, filled her tray with some bread, fruits and walked in the direction of the coffee dispenser. Coincidentally, not believing such a thing when it came to him, Troy arrived at the self-serving machine at the same time as her. The fake surprise on his face made her nose wrinkle when she was reminded of his disdain towards her caring for Luciana.

"Ladies first," Troy gestured politely.

There were people around, so Cristine was sure Troy wouldn't behave too irrational in the open or make snide remarks. She stepped in front of the dispenser and pushed on the tap and watched the dark fluid slowly fill her cup.

"It's a shame about Charlene." Troy stepped in line next to her while he waited for her to finish. His blue eyes lowered on the shorter woman with a thoughtfulness that was a bit difficult to decipher.

"Yeah," Cristine agreed with a nod.

"Is miss Mexico still cuffed?"

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end and the grip on the sides of her tray tightened. It was as if Troy never heard about personal space sometimes and deliberately disturbed the briefest moments of her peace. Truth was, Cristine felt incredibly good to defend someone that was her meager months ago. She'd also seen the look in her father's eyes; with the hope his Birdie was still salvable and not a corrupted monster that killed so easily and an ounce of remorse. So for Luciana and herself, she would get the job done and it was time to shove it in Troy's face he was wrong.

"If I didn't know any better, I would mistaken your curiosity for _Luciana_ as jealousy. I can check your eye if that's what you want...." Tilting her head, she looked at the injured eye in question. It didn't bleed as severely anymore, was clean and showed discoloration of his skin. The swollenness was heavy and almost fully shut his eyes. It looked as it hurt, but she didn't feel sorry for Troy as he had gotten himself in the mess anyway. It was time Troy finally came across the wrong people. Just a pity the injury wasn't worse. "At least you did something right and listened to Martha. It seems to be healing nicely."

"I'm not here to argue Cristine, just making sure you follow protocols. Ones which _you_ adviced we install." The tone of his voice sounded sincere, but the woman followed his line of sight as his eyes trailed in the direction of Nick. He was busy filling his tray with an extra serving of porridge and fruits.

Cristine turned off the tap and stepped aside. "You made sure of that right? You have the keys to let her go after she's in the clear." She shrugged nonchalantly.

Cristine brushed him off for strangers she didn't know from heaps of dirt and Troy didn't like it one bit. It was weak, pathetic, and downright sentimental. It wasn't like her and Troy regretted not having killed the Mexican woman on sight. He shouldn't have listened and just put her down, even when Nick came between. Troy didn't pick Nick either. He didn't deserve this place. Not when he was with strangers instead of family. What did that say about the Clark son? To Troy, it said he didn't care about familial loyalties. It said he rather choose strangers who weren't blood over a mother that showed him loyalty and unconditional love. He wanted to know why Madison would still love and care about a son with such disloyalty that much. It didn't make any sense to him.

Now, even Cristine voluntarily stayed on the Ranch to look after his girlfriend when she couldn't be bothered to stay even a day before all this. She rather be at the outpost by herself and abandon the militia when they all build it up to what it was now. Strong, orderly, and with a clear chain of command and an example of discipline and hope for the community. But Cristine ruined that by leaving. The palms of his hands rested in their usual place and Troy stood in his typical hands on hips pose and answered, "unwillingly, after this mess was allowed. A mess you unfortunately backed." Troy knew that she must have had a reason to do what she did. That the woman he _vouched for_ and _picked_ to become a worthy Survivalist must have a deeper motive. He just didn't get what they were. Why care and pick the side of strangers to defy them... defy _him_?

Frowning,Troy played out the many questions in his head and muled over Cristine's sudden change of heart. Was it something he overlooked about the Clarks? Something she saw and wanted to use for later? She was sharp like that, like with Ben. Her actions didn't make any sense to Troy, unless Cristine found out the Clark family was a risk to the Ranch. Or maybe she was annoyed with him. Troy wet his lips and asked, "are you angry at me? Is that why you're doing this?" His tone skillfully hid the uncertainty he kept deep down. Troy felt like he was losing his grip on her ever since she became a full-fledged member and had her little outpost. Troy wondered if he made a mistake helping Cristine now that the woman had what she wanted all along. _"She used me. Of course she did."_ Troy concluded before his eyes indifferently fell upon hers.

"What I do or don't, doesn't revolve around you Troy," Cristine answered as if she read his disturbing and childish thoughts. Troy acted as if they were in kindergarten and accused her of ignoring him for playing with new friends on the school playground. "I'm taking care of someone that needs help. You might not give a shit, but I do. So I'd appreciate it if you could respect my choices." Cristine ushered in a low voice, "can you do that for me?" His overbearing presence unnerved Cristine as much as his steely gaze. Whatever story Troy spun inside those brains were a projection on his part and messed up. But she needed to be clear and direct with Troy or else he'd be even more of a pain and block her in every way. "Please?" The icy light inside his blue eyes diminished when she said that single word. It was strange the type of effect a slight change in attitude to appease him had.

Troy rolled his cup between his fingers, thinking about her request. Cristine certainly wouldn't ask his permission to do what she wanted. Cristine wasn't one of his men and certainly wouldn't salute him or stand at attention. Heck, the woman would remind him of that every chance she got, which Troy characterized as defiance. But he let her, because underneath it all Troy knew her loyalty woul always be with the Ranch. "I guess, whatever." Troy shrugged trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. He wouldn't deny that hearing her harmless request and that _'please'_ made him feel less irritated with her base motives. At least, Cristine still cared enough to ask him and that improved Troy's mood considerably.

-

After that 'eventful' conversation with Troy, Cristine offered to give Nick a short tour of the Ranch as they cruised back to Luciana. The teen was glad for that. He hadn't missed that as they left, Troy's curious eyes were following them, but they were less penetrating and threatening than first. Whatever small talk the medic had with that psychopath seemed to have contained him. That piqued Nick's interest even more. What was Cristine's relationship with Troy?

"Was he asking about Lucy?" Nick asked the older woman with light worry.

"He just wanted to make sure she's cuffed and can't go anywhere." Sighing, Cristine flashed an effortless smile to put his mind at ease. Knowing Troy, he must have committed some inexcusable atrocities that left a lasting trauma on the couple. "You don't have to worry about him, he has better things to do around here than bother you two."

Nick shook his head, "thanks, that kind of eases my mind. I know why you've been helping, even if you barely know us. You didn't have to and don't owe us anything."

"Let's just say that I know exactly what Luciana is going through. As you can see, not a lot of people look like me and don't give me too much shit about it... not anymore at least."

Nick's eyes narrowed at her darkened tone and words, "out of all the things to worry about when the dead are rising."

Treading the waters carefully he said, "but _you're_ the exception. Even to Troy. It's kind of messed up how he is around you given yesterday. I thought he was going to bother you again, but he can be surprisingly civil." Nick was more observant than Cristine thought. Still, these so called civil moments didn't mean anything. It didn't change that Troy was a bigot, volatile and just very difficult. Giving him boundaries seemed to do the trick, something Jake advised her to do. It was how she avoided being pulled in Troy's moments of instability and darkness. Becoming the exact same type of person in the moments she was around him. Cristine was happy she listened to Jake, since she herself was slipping and found the lines between survival and savagery thinning. Troy only encouraged it. Mulling over his words, Cristine decided to warn Nick.

He was young, had survived this world with his family so far and Cristine liked him. "You don't have to tell me what he did to you and Luciana, I know. I'm not excusing it, I told him that what he's doing is useless and wrong. But it's something he and the others have to live with. And I'm not saying not to hate him, you're entitled to that, but don't do anything that doesn't keep you and your family safe Nick." It was to remind him of his actions. When he drew a gun on Troy and all but demanded entry and nursing.

"You really think people don't know what Troy does? What their sons and daughters do under his orders? This world just makes it easier for them to turn a blind eye to it. All everyone cares about is safety. I haven't done what he did at the depot, but I've killed people too. In the name of the Ranch and my family. I crossed lines and I'm not sorry that I did."

Nick looked away from her penetrating gaze and at his shoes. "It doesn't mean we have to act like it's supposed to be easy. You're a doctor so isn't human life supposed to be precious? Most of those people were part of my previous group. It was Lucy's family, so she's justified to do whatever she feels is her right."

"She is," Cristine agreed. Who was she to judge? Whatever Troy did would probably come back to him in the form of someone getting revenge for killing their loved ones. "And I can't imagine how Luciana feels since I still have mine and you have yours. So what say she kills him, then say Jeremiah kills her and then you kill one of them, you get killed, your mother kill-"

Nick cut her off, understanding where she went with her advice, "an endless cycle of killing, but he killed innocent people for no reason. They used stacks of money that lost their worth to bet how long it'd take people to turn. They timed it in the name of science. He can't get away with what he's done to who knows how many." Cristine heard the way his voice cracked and flashes of her own atrocities on both ends of the spectrum replayed through her mind.

"I know, but like I told Luciana, you need to play it smart. Because just being good does not get you far these days. I learned that the hard way." Cristine advised the clearly emotional young man. Nick reminded her of Jake in a sense, but with a more realistic view that if needed he would and could actually kill someone. And yet, as Cristine peered at Nick, she didn't see the eyes or disposition of a merciless killer. Not like with Troy, the militia, or his mother. Nick Clark wasn't a killer. But he was a survivor and that in itself was a feat.

"But you feel responsible for Lucy, in spite of going against Troy. That's the difference between the two of you. You care. You're human." It struck him odd that the older woman wasn't as cold and standoffish as she made herself seem. And whether that had to do with seeing herself in Luciana's shoes, Nick wasn't sure. She was pragmatic and talked rather clinical about others like Troy, but she clearly had a conscience and so much empathy for people she felt she could save. _"Feels like she can just switch her feelings on and off. I wonder what things she had to do to make it this far."_

"Like I said, I know what she's going through. I just want to do good and help. It's more than I got in return when I first got here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter than usual, but I'm really liking this Nick, Luciana and Cristine bond. Also, notice how Troy's getting a bit jealous and clingy? He's so confused and out of tune with his own emotions and Cristine just has to keep putting up these boundaries to make things work.
> 
> I'd love to know your thoughts on this chapter.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took a while but here you go! Warning: some cute moments

"Excuse me." The polite voice behind her made Cristine falter in her stride and she turned halfway around.

Nick's mother.

Since Charlene's funeral, she hadn't talked or been personally introduced to the teen's mother. Nick didn't resemble his mother in personality at all. He was less guarded and seemed a bit more prone to influence than his mother. Cristine glanced around, making sure she was the one being addressed. The quad keys rolled inside her palm while she looked at the slightly shorter middle aged woman with shoulder length hair. The expression on her face was soft, but the sharpness in her gaze wasn't hard to decipher. She was as equally sociable as cautious. Understandable, but Cristine wasn't quite sure why the woman approached her out of the blue. Therefore she didn't hide her puzzlement and slightly arched her brow.

"I talked to your father, you must be Cristine." She stretched out her arm when introducing herself, a smile on her lips. "I'm Madison, Nick's mother." The sound of her keys stopped, but Cristine made no move to accept the gesture and just pursed her lips together. Madison didn't seem to mind and dropped her hand, the smile still there but less prominent.

"I wanted to personally thank you... you saved Luciana's life and my daughter's. We're grateful." Cristine couldn't help but quirk her lips up as well. Charlene was more or less 'killed' because of her and her family, so Madison had to socialize with the Ranchers and change that image. However, with her it was different. Madison Clark was deliberate and Cristine grasped the reason why Madison approached her. Cristine was one of the founder's next of kin, surprisingly different but still accepted by the community. And as someone who could most likely understand their situation, Madison wanted to bond with the pariah of the Ranch. Or maybe she'd seen Troy and her interact and wanted to use that to her advantage. Cristine's lips tilted upwards, but the emotion didn't reach her eyes. "Don't mention it. It's one of the things I do around here."

There was some hesitation in the woman's face as it morphed into something like curiosity before she voiced her thoughts out loud, "your father told me that you came a few months before us all the way from San Francisco... by yourself."

"I did, I took a chance and was lucky to have made it to my family. My condolences... for Travis, he sounded like a good person," Cristine answered and showed her a light smile of compassion, hopefully the emotion showed.

This time, her response wasn't as exaggeratedly played out and with dewy eyes she nodded her thanks. "You should go and eat breakfast and try to talk to some other people. They might act like a stubborn herd, but without too much of their shepherd's influence, they're fine with anything if you earn your keep and pull your weight."

"Thank you."

"I'll see you around Madison Clark." Cristine waved cordially, jumped into the quad and drove off to the crop fields.

-

Troy smirked when Cristine waltzed passed the fence with some gardening tools at hand and said his greetings, "good afternoon to you too. How's your patient?" He saw her rotate her jaw and continued clipping pieces of barbed wire for the fence of the cabbage field. Upon Cristine's glare, he shrugged innocently and replied. "I'm genuinely worried. I don't want to see you get disappointed if she doesn't make it."

Rolling her eyes, she walked closer to the fence that seemed to have been intentionally ruined. "Then you'll be thrilled to know that she'll make it. Luciana is in the clear soon, so the cuffs won't be necessary."

"Hmm," he hummed in forcef amazement and lowered his head on the pliers, covering the light frown on his face. Cristine was almost tempted to stick it in his face, almost, but kept her mouth shut and gestured at the half eaten cabbages behind him.

"What happened?" She wore a puzzled look at the mess that didn’t seem to be man made.

Troy raised his head again, twisting the wire around with his hand. "A boar keeps digging up the fence posts to get to the cabbage. You here to help with the clean up?"

"Hailey was supposed to, but she had to help Mike, so she asked if I could do it," Cristine answered with a scowl that Troy hadn't seen in a while and crossed over the patch. "They're acting as if no one knows what they're doing," Cristine grumbled and started to dig up the half eaten vegetable and paused, "well, maybe my dad doesn't, but that's because he'll have Mike's head if he does."

"I'll tell him to stay low for a bit," Troy said as closely watched her excavate the ruined cabbages and place them in the bucket, "make sure to take them out from the roots, we'll reuse the patches and they need to be sterile. Can't attract any cabbage flies or give them the chance to lay their eggs."

"Got it." Cristine diligently cleaned the messy and hollowed out chunks and threw the munched leaves and plant into a separate bin. A little extra for the pigs later. She repeatedly dug into the earth to search for the remains of the very shallow roots. It had been a while since she worked the crops on the Ranch. It was a nice distraction and while she would never admit it, she liked doing this work. It was calming and such a normal task in such an abnormal world. She didn't know how long she was busy with the repetitive task of unrooting, cleaning and separating the soil, vegetable and its remains.That was until something cold touched the tip of her ear, startling her. Cristine turned and lifted her head to see the outstretched bottle in front of her face. Behind her, she saw that she had gone several feet from where she started near the fence. Cristine wiped the tip of her damp nose with the top of her shoulders, "thanks." She accepted the bottle and twisted the cap open and relished in the cool liquid that slid down her dancing throat. "How's that fence coming along?"

Troy glanced over his shoulders, his frown deep before he rolled his neck from the strain of keeping his head low to focus on cutting and rearranging the wires. Sighing he rubbed his forehead and dropped to his knees next to her, putting his task aside for now. "Have to keep fixing it, since that boar will keep coming back."

Cristine arched a brow when he helped her with cleaning the roots, ignoring how his arm brushed against hers each time he leaned forward to either shovel up the earth or discard a cabbage in the bucket that was almost filled to the brim.

Troy glanced at her from the corner of his eyes the moment Cristine restarted her work and pensively chewed on the inside of his mouth. Some of her corkscrew shaped curls bounced past the curve of her upturned cheek, down to her chin. Cristine usually kept her hair shorter than that and Troy absently wondered why she hadn’t cut it. She told the women in their militia to keep theirs either secure or short from the hands of the dead. Swallowing, his stare was as unsettled as the suggestion that tumbled from his lips, "me and the guys are planning on hunting tonight, if you want to come-" but before Troy could finish his innocent request, his brother arrived and served as an interruption.

“Cristine,” Jake nodded at the woman who he hadn't seen or talked to for a while. His brows faintly rose as he stared at his little brother's close proximity to her. Cristine didn't seem to mind or wasn't as cautious to it as he was. Troy, quick to react, rose to his feet. Cristine mirrored Troy's movement and dusted off her knees. With a tight lipped smile, she offered him her condolences with a mellow expression. Jake and Charlene were close, so it must've hurt him on a different level than the rest. Jake forced a smile, thanking her for her silent consolation before he glanced at his baby brother and politely asked for a moment with him, "I need to speak to my brother."

Cristine looked between the siblings, there was an uncomfortable tension more so on Jake's side that settled the mood for the conversation. It didn't bode well and she wondered if it had anything to do with what Luciana and Nick had warned her about. Whatever it was, their familial discussions weren't any of her business. "I'll go and take a look at the fence."

The conversation between the brothers lasted about five minutes. Cristine saw Jake drive off with the quad. Stern look on his pale features. Glancing over her shoulders she watched Troy waltz back in her direction, his gait stiff and angry. She didn't say a thing when Troy plopped next to her again and grabbed the spare set of pliers. The manner in which he roughly moved them between the wires made Cristine gnash her teeth. She jabbed him in the side at his actions when she couldn't stand it anymore, scolding him, "don't be wasteful."

"Shut up, it's mine to waste," Troy hissed back childishly, jerking at the pliers against the wire and glared at the incredulous Cristine, the latter still registering that, yes, Troy snapped at her. A look of vexation quickly washed over her features and she struck out her elbow to jab him in the ribs harder this time.

"I don't care why the two of you were arguing, but don't vent it on me." Cristine watched him part his lips to retort, but couldn't get a word out with her still admonishing him, "don't let whatever Jake said get to you and channel whatever it is you're feeling into something useful. Hunt that boar, go for a run or clean the Ranch's perimeter. There are more than enough outlets." Cristine lifted her eyes and scoffed, "try to send all that's going on in here to here." She tapped on his chest and the pointed at his temple as final a piece of advice.

"You're smarter than that _nature boy_."

Expecting an irritated and unrestrained response, Troy surprised her by thinking over her words, face shifting to a form of appreciation. Since it never took his emotions to flip around so quickly or positively to her criticism, since she clearly expected an outburst, Troy nodded. His eyes were alight with renewed fervor and Troy smiled out of the blue before resuming with the task he was complaining about a few minutes ago.

_"Actually, I don't want to know. At least he's not being an ass."_ Cristine thought to herself and ignored the bizarre militia leader.

It was quiet again, but the shimmering anger of Troy seemed to have vanished after her short, but effective lecture. Cristine helped him with fixing the ruined fence. The two were fastening the new sheet of metal onto the medium sized hole forcibly bend over from the ground. Cristine grunted as she tried to fasten the ends together. She used a lot of her strength to pull the wires taut. "Damn it," she breathed out and blew some of limp curls from her face and battled with holding the metal in place.

"Here- let me." Cristine tensed when large, gloved hands reached out from her right and grasped the wires and put them in place. "You cut them a bit too short, but they'll fit." Troy exerted a bit more force to pull them together and used the pliers to twist the metal together. This time, his left arm pressed into her right arm and whilst trying to ignore the way his hands squeezed hers, Cristine felt his intense gaze. Lifting her chin, her line of sight was halfway covered by his turned face. He stared at her oddly, as if he was waiting for her to scowl at him or shove him away. No words were spoken and Cristine detected a strange gleam inside his bright eyes. The blue hue glistened in the light. As she stared, Cristine found those irises quickly flitting down her face before settling for her eyes again. His breath fluttered over her face when he breathed a smiled and specks of light danced in his eyes until the baby blue swallowed it whole. "You just need to add some strength," he muttered under his breath before pulling back ever so slightly.

Cristine finally narrowed her eyes and pulled her hands back and awkwardly coughed. "Got it. Thanks." She dusted her hands and rose to her feet. "I'll be going back to those cabbages." She ignored the strange look Troy gave her and quickly finished cleaning the waste littering the ruined fields.

_What the hell?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Your opinions about the Troy x Cristine moments? I have fun writing their (sometimes) awkward moments. Especially Troy 😅


	9. - Cristine & Blake -

Darkness fell. Cristine peered through night vision binoculars. She was stationed just outside Ranch property for guard duty near the old tower they used as a sentry post. A small campfire crackles on the earth behind her. Cristine stood with her back to the fire, her rifle hung loosely around her torso, attention on the quiet night. Her eyes picked up a few militia members patrolling behind the fences and after scanning everything one more time, she talked to her walky, "Big Bear, this is Little Bird, everything's clear from the west abd wast flanks. No activity dead or alive." The code names were a bit silly, but they were part of the protocol. It was ironic she was assigned the same nickname her parents had given her.

"Little Bird, this is Big Bear I read you loud and clearly. No suspicious activity here either. Kind of boring if you ask me." Cristine rolled her eyes at the complaint. "Should've went looking for that boar with the others." She fought back the smile on her face and thumbed the button once more to tease.

"Don't pout Jimmy, that's what you get for pissing off Troy. You'll get plenty of chances to do some recreational fun some other time."

"Yeah, yeah. Imagine the feast we'll have if they catch that thing. I can already taste it and together with Coop's moonshine... well, wow." Shaking her head, Cristine detected human movement in her peripheral and slightly relaxed when she saw Blake waltz out from inside the sentry tower. He held a bottle and two cups in his hands and with a lazy wave in her direction gestured for her to come and join him near the fire.

"Should you really be talking about food and booze on your guard duty? Sounds to me you don't really regret what you did Jimmy."

"I dont. Haven't seen my girl in weeks and the flesh is weak-"

"Right, I'm stopping you right there. I don't need to hear details about your trysts with your girlfriend on guard duty. I'm going to check the other side of for actvity. Behave."

"Yes ma'am." Jimmy's cheeky answer earndd an eyeroll from Cristine. She really was one of the guys if the rest felt so at ease talking to her about the girls they were seeing. She didn't want to hear how some were playing hooky like the horny idiots that they were as if they were in high school. A sigh later, Cristine clipped the walky talky to her belt and walked in Blake's general direction. He was patiently waiting for her and arched his brow when he saw the funny expression on her face.

"What?"

"Isn't that my question?" Cristine suspiciously looked at her friend with a cocked hip and arm on her waist. "I thought you went boar hunting. Why are you here?"

It was Blake's turn to make a face, he feigned a hurt expression and sniffed, "well excuse me for keeping you company with one of the most boring shifts ever put in place. Thought you might want some company," Blake raised the bottle and his eyes twinkle, "brought some drinks."

"I don't drink." Cristine said flatly. 

Blake gave her an owlish blank stare and replied to her statement as if it was as incredulous as a bunch of walking corpses, "just when I thought you couldn't surprise me, there you go saying bold stuff. Who doesn't drink? Especially in this shitty world."

"Stop projecting and scoot over." Cristine ignored Blake's incredulity and sat together with him in front of the campfire. "Still, this was very... thoughtful of you."

"You even say your thanks like a grinch. Come on loosen up! I know you're worried about what happened, but it'll be fine. We'll get this creep and deal with him." Blake nudged her in the elbow before he poured a glass of fine whisky in his cup and sighed at the burning feel in his throat.

"It could be a them... another group." Cristine mused aloof as she looked at nothing in particular and shared her thoughts. "Charlie didn't deserve what happened."

"I know. Whoever did this has a lot coming their way... but," Cristine glanced at Blake and saw how relaxed and peaceful the man was. "Let's just think of some good stuff... even if it's for 5 minutes."

"Alright," Cristine didn't want to dour the mood any more than she had to. Blake skipped a hunting trip to be here with her with the intent to cheer her up. Rubbing her nape, Cristine urged him to start. "Aside from the booze what other good stuff did you guys bring back?"

"Lots of MRE, medicine, coffee, those state of the art night vision binoculars you're using..." Blake's smile faltered and he lowered his cul between his legs. The dark shadows of the fire danced across his suddenly serious face, but the warm glow of the embers softened his face. It didn't however, manage to soften his next statement. His words were rather omnious, "and Willy's dead." Blake took a big gulp this time and looked at Cristine. He saw her register his words, her expression very composed, but he saw her jaw slightly move back and forth. "I wanted to celebrate that with you."

"..."

"Come on Cristine, you're putting me on the spot. I know it's not good to speak bad of the dead let alone celebrate it, but we all know Willy got it out for you the most. Troy used him as an example for chain of command and all that shut, but he didn't step in when me, Coop and Mike took turns to beat his ass too that night. Thought it would give you some type of closure given that it was his fault that-"

"Don't." Cristine cut Blake off from finishing that sentence. It was quiet before she released a long, shaky exhale. Pushing down the hotness at the tip of her fingers she started to rub her fingers over her knuckles and scratched her throat, "I'm not going to deny it; I was happy he wasn't with you guys. I wanted to do it myself even after you guys beat his ass. Hailey talked me out of it, said it wouldn't make me feel better, not really, and let karma handle it."

"Your little sister is better than me. If you'd ask, I would've helped." Blake admitted with a lazy shrug before licking the remains of his beverage from his lips. "Maybe it wouldn't have made you feel better, but you would be the one to take out the last asshole who hurt you. Y'know to complete the circle." Cristine moved her arms so her sweaty palms could rub against her pants in a back forth motion.

"You're just saying that cause you hated his guts as much as I did. You'd be doing it for you Blakey, no need to use me as your excuse."

Blake snorted, but didn't deny Cristine's claim. His dark blue eyes moved along their surroundings. His voice kept quiet and low, falling from his lips as barely a whisper. "Let's just agree that what happened at the depot-" his shoulder bounced up and down, the inside of his mouth being briefly sucked in before taking a sip as if he was drinking away the things he'd done in the name of science and having no regrets. "-stays at the depot.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a filler chapter, but I really wanted to put this chapter in cause with what happened in the last book. I felt this moment between Blake and Cristine is fitting. And I just like writing these calm moments between them 😉


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than usual. Enjoy

"Hey, hey, hey, long time no see!" Cristine licked the corner of her lip before she gruffly gnawed at it with her teeth and turned around to face a cheery Troy. He held his arms out as if he was ready to hug a close friend he hadn't seen in years. She blinked at the bloody patch on his right eye, Madison Clark's handiwork, and some liquid leaked down his cheek. Cristine's expression remained the same. Troy dropped his arms and turbulently wiped his hands against the sides of his pants. The mercurial smile on his face was like that of a child who had a secret to tell.

Cristine didn't want to comment on the state of his eye and asked, "I'm looking for-"

"Martha died." Troy bluntly delivered the news with a light tilt of his lip. When he said it, he tipped his chin up and watched her reaction. "Last night. She and Russell burned to ashes. You were out on guard duty at the sentry tower, so you missed the fire." Cristine blinked, her face stiff and refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. Troy didn't seem to care too much, his mood was surprisingly good, as creepy as it was talking about the deaths of fellow Ranch members. His supposed people. He stalked in the direction of the medium sized table with some prepackaged medical equipment and took one. "You seem to find the best things lately."

"I seem to be lucky lately." Troy looked back at her and put forth a mock impression of awe, but didn't press on the issue.

"When we could finally pull out what was left of the bodies, you know since we couldn't waste the water, I thought they would turn." Troy switched back to telling the tragic story of the elderly couple. "But then we realized that the fire was an accident, but their deaths weren't. Russell put a bullet through both their brains. I guess he wanted to go out with his spouse who had already turned." Something of an enthused sigh relaxed Troy's broad shoulders. He wiped the side of his cheek from the blood line trickling down and muttered a curse under his breath.

"Let me fix that." Cristine offered not out of concern or courtesy, but he most likely came here to get his injury treated. While she cleaned his wound, the sound of him crumpling the plastic sterilized kit filled the infirmary. He didn't so much as flinch when she swiped at the injury with a cotton of saline solution.

Then Troy wondered out loud, "it's fascinating you know. How someone would give their life for another person for no other reason than loyalty and love." It made Trot think back to what Madison said, talking about her now dead husband. He didn't understand how someone could love another's life more than their own. It was bizarre and fascinating and seeing it again with Russell and Martha just piqued Troy's interest again.

Cristine patted the damaged skin dry with a clean towel and looked down at her hands to undo the non-adhesive and waterproof plaster from its cover. She didn't put much thought to her words, too focused on planting it against his blood soaked eye. "For some people that's more than enough."

"Was it for you?" He asked the woman that stood right across from him. The question emerged from his mouth amid his thoughtful daze - but it was no longer about love- it had changed into something disturbing. "I mean, that's why you crossed half the state right? Risked it all to come here knowing that you could get killed at any point. At any time." His eye was almost translucent, glossy from the light. Like the palest blue tintes glass, it was too soft to be turquoise, too bright to be baby blue.

"Wouldn't you do the same for your father? For Jake?"

When Cristine countered with the exact same question, his lips curled into a smile and he shrugged. "It's different, we've always been together. We never had to worry about separating, because there was no reason for us to."

Cristine really didn't want to indulge Troy, but she wanted to know why he always started these odd conversations with her. Were her actions as strange as he visualized them? She was just like everyone else. She had things that kept her going. People to protect even if it meant taking another's life or playing dirty. Cristine would do anything for her family and loved ones. "But you'd kill for them, right?" His eyebrows rose, a bit surprised by the question. Cristine continued, "kill to protect what's yours, no matter what." His eyes were shining as he gazed upon her, an undefined feeling of genuine awe on his mien. Cristine unwrapped a second dressing and added it on top of the first one. Blood already started to soak through the plaster, and she continued to apply pressure on the wound.

Troy caught himself gaping and slowly shut his mouth. A soft halfhearted laugh escaped, the short huff of air barely perceptible. The remark was left hanging, but there was no need to him to give his answer. It wasn't difficult to guess it. He'd give his life for his family and home. It was the most logical thing to do.

"Make sure to change the bandage three to four times a day. If the bleeding is excessive change it more often." The instructions were simple and Troy rose simultaneously when she stepped back, putting some distance between them.

"Got it." Troy tipped his chin down, his mind busy as his hands fumbled with the dispensable medical tools. Meanwhile, Cristine zipped her bag shut and slid the loop on one shoulder. When Cristine was ready she looked at Troy to say her goodbye, but paused at her silliness of thinking he would even care. Their gazes met anyway and she watched him struggle to voice his opinion. That struck her as strange, so she probed, "what?"

It seemed like he was glad to be asked so Troy could release his eager statement. "With Martha gone and you here for who knows how long, the Ranch could use an extra hand in the infirmary."

Cristine blinked at his unexpected offer and stayed silent as she watched him explain it as rationally as he could, "I'd rather you join the militia, but you're already taking up guard duty and we need more hands in here. You're the one with the mos experience and-" Troy scratched his throat and sucked in his lower lip. "You don't _have_ to leave for the outpost after we deal with this nutjob." Troy extended his arm, the kit hovering in front of Cristine as he urged her to accept it and his offer. He hoped she'd accept his offer. Cristine her skills were more valuable here than at some outpost. Someone else could take that burden upon them.

Sighing, Cristine looked away and rubbed the back of her neck, "Would you be angry if I said that I still want to go after we deal with this asshole?"

"Why?" He sharply asked, eyes narrowing with both incredulity and annoyance. "Why did you want to leave in the first place?" Troy interrogated, tired of playing this cat and mouse game for once. At first, he figured Cristine needed time and space with everything that happened with Willy, so he and Jake vouched she man the outpost. Troy expected the woman to get sick of it and come back, but she didn't. And he wasn't going to beg her to come back. He had a militia to lead and the way Jake, Blake and Charlie talked about how happy and at peace she was there made Troy shake his with incredulity. He didn't realize Cristine ran away that easily. Never thought her that frail. It was clear she went to the outpost and stayed there cause she was running away from some things.

Cristine scoffed, "I'm fine where I am. I'm keeping an eye out for all of us. The community doesn't mind, why do you? I'm also _not_ the only one with medical experience. We'll survive."

"Then why were you so hell ben to offer medical assistance for that Mexic-"

Cristine raised her palm, a scowl on her face, stopping Troy from finishing that bigoted statement. "Watch it." Feeling the early phase of a headache bubbling up with the flow of this conversation, Cristine pushed his hand back. How did their conversation keep turning to this? To nonsensical arguments? "You said you'd leave me tending to Luciana out of whatever issue it is you have with me. I'm not your toy soldier Troy and I don't have to explain myself to you... or anyone here for that matter. I'm helping us, looking out for us, cause I want to, so why are you so bitter about it?"

Troy clenched his teeth, "I just want to know why?! Everything was perfect and we started off with a clean slate. Training the recruits, solidifying our policies. We're building something here and then you decided to permanently live at that place." Troy began to rave at this point, his frustration as clear as day. But his words didn't really have anything to do with why he was really upset with Cristine.

Cristine listened to Troy's rant and furrowed her brows as he continued, "you get what it takes to shoulder burdens no one else here wants or can bear. Burdens people around here criticize while enjoying the benefits it brings to them." Troy wanted to say that Cristine understood him too, unlike his brother and father, but didn't. He was just frustrated with his family. "Don't regret your past actions because of some hypocrites!" Troy's outburst was filled with a bitter resentment towards his own people, not necessarily at the woman in front of him. It sounded like his current comments were something that weighed between the crevices of his mind. Cristine was just bearing the brunt of Troy's frustrations.

"Why do you care?" Cristine arched her brow, curious as to why he was so heated about her whereabouts or what she decided out of her own free will and peace of mind. A scowl appeared on her face when Troy divulged his entitled response.

"_I_ vouched for you. _I_ picked you, _I_ made sure you were treated right, but you still left. Why? I have a right to know the answer. I want you to look me in the eyes and tell me." Now his tone voice was filled with accusation and overbearing bitterness.

"Because it was my choice Troy, what else do you want me to say? That I'm oh so grateful for your approval. Your respect of treating me as one of the kind? That I am finally being seen like a human being only after I kill for you? That's messed up and you know it."

"So you do regret killing Ben."

Cristine shook her head, her answer firm and without an ounce of hesitance, "I don't. I'd do it all over again. Just don't kid yourself that I killed for you or some greater purpose. I did it for me as much as you when doing your little experiments."

"That's not an answer."

Cristine rubbed her temples with annoyance and scratched and rolled the inside of her lower lip over her teeth, her chagrin palpable. She didn't like that he thought he could boss her around and get angry because things didn't go as he planned them to. He didn't own her! "Well, its my answer and my choice." She snapped back rather defensively and abruptly turned to leave the infirmary.

-

"Cristine! Cristine, wait up!" Closing the door of her car, ready for a quick trip to her outpost and back, Cristine saw Jake and her father draw close in a quick sprint. James was slightly out of breath, flushed and sweaty, but he had a relieved look on his face to have found her.

"Dad? Jake? What's up? I was just about to leave with Blake to get some stuff from-"

"You can't leave." Her father quickly interjected and massaged his ribs with a palm. The three words made his daughter pause and whilst he caught his breath, Jake decided to explain the details.

"We haven't heard anything from McCarthy after the helicopter crashed. We think something's wrong at outpost Alpha." Jake finished, his brows creased with worry. Since Charlie's death that's been the sole expression on his face. Cristine was sure the man barely slept at all.

"I can check it out. I've taken that route a couple of times when they needed supplies or help. I'll see what I can find."

"No." Her father firmly shook his head and touched her shoulder, the severity in his gaze worrying for not only her safety, but that of his old friend. "We won't risk you leaving too. Alone for that matter. We don't know what we're dealing with yet and if we do, we'll send out a search party."

Jake agreed and crossed his arms over his elbows, "the klicks McCarthy had to cover isn't much. But that doesn't mean anything happened. It just means were being-"

"Cautious. I know." She sucked her lower lip inward and patted her father on the back of his hand in reassurance. "I'll stay until we know more."

James finally seemed assured when he heard those words out loud and smiled. While she was more than pulling her weight, James rather have Cristine here, where she was safe, instead in the wild all alone. He came to believe that they were going to do more than that. They even took new people in, so James was convinced that had to mean something.

"Thank you Jake, these old bones and muscles aren't what they used to be."

"You're welcome James." Jake shook his head with a chuckle and told Cristine, "you're cabin is still the way you left it. Charlene and I made sure to air the place out once in a while."

A ghost of a smile crossed his face, the loss and pain in his demeanor evident. Cristine felt bad for him and nodded. "Thanks Jake. You take it easy and if there's something I can do to help, I'll be around."

"Thank you. I'm just happy we got to you in time. Like I said, no panic, but just a precaution until we hear more." His emphasis on the situation made it crystal clear to Cristine that including Jake, her father and Jeremiah, only she knew of McCarthy's bizarre radio silence. She quickly grasped that Jake trusted her enough to share the information with her, knowing she'd keep it under wraps.

"Got it." She nodded in understanding before Jake left the two family members to converse.

"I heard about Russel and Martha.... you knew them well right?" James forced a smile out, brows scrunched together and his expression weary. Now that she'd taken a good look at her father, Cristine noticed how tired he looked.

"Russel and I both served in Vietnam. He met Martha when he was hospitalized. She was a nurse back then." Cristine walked with her father as he told the rather romantic story of the Brown's. The pair moved to Southern California after they got married. They didn't have children of their own, but they were looking for something that could fulfill their lives and came incontact with Jeremiah, Vernon, and Phil, before settling here. It felt as if her father deliberately skipped past a few events in his story, so Cristine frowned.

"What made you leave?" Cristine asked trying to probe at this backstory she never once heard her father talk about. It always unsettled Cristine that her father made the sudden decision to move to Broke Jaw Ranch. A week before the outbreak without even calling her... no- she did receive one drunk voice message on the day all lines went down and that was that. A stupid, but fateful coin toss led her to come down here in seatch of him and Hailey. Otherwise, she would still be roaming outside, in the middle of nowhere, by herself.

"It sounded as five of you had something really good going on after making this Founding Fathers pack and building... all of this together." Cristine gestured at the bustling people who very kindly and respectfully greeted her and her father. She was curious to hear this unknown story of her father. "Why didn't you stay instead of going back to San Fransisco?"

"Cause I never knew what life would bring me next." A dimpled smile flourished on James's face, wrinkles increasing as his expression softened. "I went back cause I made a promise to help a friend of mine in need first. I always wanted to come back to Broke Jaw Ranch. And as cliche as it sounds, I saw your mother and she swooped me from my feet when I first saw her."

"Isn't it usually the man who swoops the woman from her feet?" Cristine didn't expect her father to change his course of life because of love... but if he hadn't she would have never been born.

"Not in this case, Birdie. Your mother she was the most beautiful person I've ever seen and she's the love of my life." James looked like a young man in love again when he talked about Cristine's mother, his cheeks were even a bit rosy and the animated manner in which he spoke of her was adorable. "She would have loved this place if she was still here... she always wanted to live this sort of life, especially after the sickness got her."

"Really? Mom living as a Prepper? I can't really see it." Cristine could not imagine that... but then again, she was very young and remembered moments of her mother before she got terminally ill and left this world.

"A Survivalist," James corrected and smiled before explaining, "and I mean the sustainable way of life. Your mother hailed from a small village in Cuba in a farming family. After moving to the States, she admitted to me that she strangely missed that way of life. We had plans... but then she got sick before we could even put them into fruition," James sighed, the exhale shaky and a different sort of heaviness hitting him.

"And you had to take care of me after."

"You and your mother didn't ruin anything for me. You could never. You two opened my eyes to the fact that I kept a lot of hate, anger, prejudice, dissapointment and bigoted views in me. It's why I never talked about my life down here and the Ranch... I was ashamed. Still am. None of that is an excuse for what I did to you when you came here Birdie. I should've protected you best that I could. I should've told you that we were planning on moving here."

Cristine paused in her walk, blinking as it dawned to her that her father was actually the one who brought up an issue that needed to be addressed ever since she arrived. Feeling her throat clog up, Cristine pursed her lips and rubbed her fingers together, flesh clammy. Looking into her father's warm, blue eyes searching for a sign of deceit, Cristine slowly relaxed when she didn't and kept back her tears by her his next words.

"I'm sorry Cristine and I hope you can forgive me for all I did and said to you."   
  
  



	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! Sorry this chapter took so long to post! This was a longer one, so hope I made it up to you guys this way. 🙈

"I-it's me! Oh my god, Cristine put the gun down!" Hailey screeched in a panic and she glared up at her sister, past the eye of the deadly weapon. Haley snuck out from the Ranch to look for her sister given that Cristine had guard duty at the sentry tower. She and Mike had a fight and Hailey needed to be away from him and his pig friends. What better option that to come here with Cristine and away from her boyfriend and parents.

"Haley? What the hell are you doing here?!" Cristine scowled in angry confusion and helped pull her younger sister up to her feet. Her wide glossy eyes and the flushed wetness on her cheeks indicated she'd cried not that long ago and Cristine narrowed her eyes. "What is it? Everything alright back home?"

Hailey nodded and awkwardly crossed her arms over her chest from the chill night air. "Can I help you cover your shift? I can't really sleep and need some space."

Cristine cocked a hand on her hip and with it the glower in her eyes intensified. "Only if you tell me what's wrong Hailey. You can't go out like this without anyone knowing and probably looking for you. I'm calling it in before Dolores and daddy freak out."

"No!" Hailey shot out both hands to stop Cristine from unclipping the walky from her pants and kept it there for a bit and just thinking of why she left in the first place made her eyes gloss over again. "Don't call it in yet... I- I had a fight with Mike. I just needed to get away. Mom and daddy would've known something was off... can't let them find out we're seeing each other just yet."

Cristine clicked her tongue, sighed and wanted to show more of her annoyance that this was the reason Hailey snuck out. "What if you came across a biter on yout way here, huh? You can't act reckless like-" Cristine couldn't finish her reprimand when the humming of a familiar truck approached. The muscles in her face cramped together with disdain and Cristine shook her head at Hailey, already feeling the migraine work its way in.

"Cris, please! I need to be away from him. Just for tonight, it's the only way I don't have to see him." Hailey's lips quivered and her eyes went wide like that of an innocent deer begging not to be thrown to the big bad wolf.

"You're grown, just tell him to piss off! I swear, the two of you have too much time to wast-"

"Hailey, babe listen to me! I didn't mean what I said back there." The truck barely pulled to a stop when Mike came dashing out. One side of his face was red, implying a recent blow and even Cristine couldn't help but touch her cheek as if she got slapped.

"You stay away from me!" Hailey flared with reddened eyes and trembling hands. "We are done Mike. Why don’t you go back to play macho man with your pig friends!?!"

"Hailey please, I know I was wrong, just let me make it up."

"Hah! You said that before and the time before, I'm not listening!"

  


-

Cristine clapped her tongue against the back of her teeth, her glare more devious from when she saw the two lovebirds kissing and whispering empty promises. "People are dying and coming back you know!" Cristine spat back the last part of her reprimand loud enough for the couple to hear. However they were far too busy sucking each other's face to care.

"I called in that Hailey's here. Jimmy will make sure to fill in Dolores and James." Troy's tall figure appeared from the side of the cabin used as a sentry post. He plopped down at the other side of the fire. Cristine dryly looked at Mike's closest friend and clicked her tongue again. Why the heck was he here again?

Troy must've seen the disdain in her face when she frowned at Mike and Hailey again and shook his head. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous," Troy teased, his smile growing when she aggressively prodded into the fire to maintain its heat.

Cristine's eyes snapped up, shooting daggers at him. "Of those two idiots? Barely. I didn'teven know they were together until a few days ago and I'm already part of their fights." Staring at the couple again, Cristine pulled up her nose.

"Yeah, they're a handful," Troy chuckled in agreement. It was rare to see Cristine unwind and free of worry out from the Ranch's protective walls. Seeing her like this made Troy feel as equally relaxed. And for probably the first, in a long time, he didn't feel the need to play the cat and mouse game. He did miss it since neither of them never nissed a beat. "I guess for some people it's good to be distracted sometimes."

"Distractions is what gets people killed." Cristine bit back sharply, ruining the mellow mood within a span of five seconds. She hadn't seen how Troy shook his head as she stared at the fire.

Troy briefly looked around the perimeter of tower and truck in place. It was very simple, but more importantly had the advantage of quickly spotting the unknown from afar. "Speaking of, I haven't seen any dead walking around for a while. How far did you go to waste them?"

Cristine lowered the stick back in the fire, wiped her hands on the top of her pants and gave her answer as if it was a simple walk in the park. "I cleared them in approximately 5 clicks. Enough to see what's happening and leave in time. The ones I didn't kill are repellents. Just to be on the safe side."

"As prepared as always. You look more like James than Hailey in that manner, not to be rude or offensive," Troy mused with a faint nod more to himself.

"I wasn't until you said that," Cristine groaned and rubbed the bridge of her nose. The laughter and giggles of Mike and Hailey didn't sound as obnoxious and grating to the ears anymore and with a pull of her shoulders, shrugged. "You look more like your father than Jake. Same thing." Her tone was a bit biting and Troy decided to ignore it.

"Maybe. Mike mentioned Hailey didn't go hunting or camping with your dad as often as you did." Cristine arched her brows questioningly, "I was curious how you managed to bring back deer during a coming drought is all." Troy admitted and innocently raised his hands at her accusatory and dead panned expression for knowing such menial details about her.

"Yeah, I had a good teacher. It was me and my dad's thing. We went out every other weekend. It started with setting traps until he thought I was old enough to use a hunting rifle. My first stake-out lasted so long I couldn't feel my legs, but it was worth it... I shot my first rabbit with the first try." When Cristine narrated her hunting experience during her younger years, her black eyes were like a gateway to her mind and feelings. It occurred to Troy that her eyes were the most intense and compelling even if she didn't talk. He swallowed thickly, a bit unnerved by the odd distraction his mind just created. Troy joked about the subject of her with a sniping riffle to weed out his odd and uncomfortable thoughts.

"Well there's room for improvement regarding those long range sniping skills of yours." Troy oh so mocked offered with a smirk that left Cristine with a scowl.

"Well excuse. We don't all breathe and live guns since we wobbled around in diapers like you did," Cristine answered.

"That's something I won't deny." Troy felt oddly satisfied to talk and joke around with Cristine like this. He would dare say it was second to their back and forth. The atmosphere was normal and their conversations cordial, even close to banter with a friend. A friend that didn't necessary avoid him because of his skewed emotional scale or judged him over the things he'd done. He wasn't sure if Cristine had accepted the things he did, things he still did. Other than making her opposing opinions known, Cristine had never explicitly said that she hated him anymore. On the contrary, her thinking pattern was in sync with his, regarding everything that could possibly be detrimental to the Ranch.

"That what keeps you busy at your outpost?" Troy's question was casual, but he honestly was curious to know what was so great about staying there by herself instead of providing for a place that would become a cornerstone for the new world. Wouldn't it be better to just be with her family?

"You're not letting this go are you?" Cristine already knew the answer from the way his eyes narrowed and his jaw tensed. Troy fought to keep his opinions to himself, which was in itself weird, but it only confirmed her thoughts. "I told my father about our run." Cristine let the confession sink in and pulled her knees up and balanced the stick in her hand as she poked at the fire. The shades of the low fire danced across her changed face. "He wanted to know what happened. I told him. Eerything. I told him about the cabin, about Ben. That when we finally got what we needed, I slit his throat and let him choke on his own blood. How I watched the life drain out of him." The haze that lights her eyes reminded Troy of how quickly Cristine could switch from ruthless, to stoic, to relaxed. There was a brief pause that was long enough to inhale before irises and pupils the color of the starless night leveled with his equally darkened orbs that were usually much brighter at daylight.

"He asked me how I felt about the things I did, not just the cabin. So I told him the truth. That I didn't feel a thing... just relieved they were dead and I didn't feel bad about it. Because I didn't. It felt kind of good when I killed them all." A ghost of a smile curved at the edges of her lips, giving her the appearance of someone with the weight of the world on her shoulders. "My dad didn't say much after. He didn't have to. If you really want to know a person's thoughts just look at their eyes." That bit of information she shared was as crucial to the story and finally gave Troy a clue as to the real reason why she left. Her nose twisted to the side from sniffing and Cristine sucked both her lips before wetting them with her tongue and briefly lifted her stiff shoulders up her neck.

Troy felt a different sort of lump in his throat this time, one that stilled his body as he watched her with keen interest. Would she break down and cry about how unfair and hypocritical her own father was? It would be another thing they'd have in common with each other. Perhaps she would just brush it off, but he hoped that she didn't. For some reason Troy really wanted to see her crack and lose composure. So he could be the one to offer her that helping hand her parent refused to give her. This betrayal was deeper and more raw. One of the woman's largest emotional support betrayed her in several ways and didn't even know it. Troy squeezed his nails into the palms of his hands and waited with a restrained hunger to exploit whatever it was that weighed on her mind. Perhaps it was the key to convince her to stay on the Ranch permanently. He felt her presence was better suited on the Ranch than elsewhere.

"I didn't want to be around that, knowing that's how he'll keep looking at me." Her head moved from side to side and a spark of anger passed as quickly as the shadows that crossed her face. "Its weird you know, he fought in an actual war. So I don't get his reaction or why he had the nerve to look at me like that." Cristine rested her chin on her free palm and stared at the fire, "I love him, but sometimes I feel it was a mistake looking for him and Hailey. That I shouldn't have tried in the first place. I crossed the whole state to be with my family."

Troy responded, "the only people you can trust and go back to is your family." Cristine made an ugly sound with her nose and took the stick again to stoke the fire. "You did the right thing. Family is all you have."

"My family isn't like yours Troy." Cristine always was envious of Dolores and Hailey's easy lives. How they had all this worry and protection from their father, while she had to be a big girl and suck it up. Cristine had to do that all her life and sometimes she wanted to be spoiled, just once in a blue moon. She muttered in a low tune, "Hailey and I are mending our relationship and my dad apologized... but I don't know. Sometimes, I think that when it comes to it or we'll end up in a really bad situation, they'll be gone. Just like when how they up and decided to come her. It's weird, they are family, but I still can't give them that complete trust sometimes."

"Trust me," Cristine didn't so much as bat a lash at Troy's offer. The brunette in turn inwardly cursed at his haste to chain her down with words that had absolutely no attachment. Troy didn't give up and explained his offer, "I'm probably the last person on your list to convince you, but it's not worth being out at some cabin in the dessert. Sure, the extra pair of eyes is great for back here, but you're being selfless by giving the people that judge you space when it's not your fault." Troy waited until she broke the long stare to register his calculated offer that were in part truth. The corners of Cristine's upturned eyes wrinkled, drawing attention to their glazed over sheen of contemplation. "It's not your fault you do the things you do or that became this way. It isn't. Blame the ones who didn’t give you a choice but to kill them. Blame the hypocrites and sheep who complain. You do what they can't and carry the burden of it." Troy swallowed thickly to pause, his eyes never parting, the weight of his constant stare nearly pinning her to the ground. "If you want to vent or blow of some steam; come with me and the guys."

"To do what?" Her question was almost an accusation in itself.

"Not that. We clear the dead that come too close. We hunt. We just leave because it's all we can do to blow off steam. Recreational stuff to keep you sharp." Cristine noticed that the color of Troy's eyes darkened, growing into a deeper blue as he continued to peer at her. Flickers of thoughts flew by on his face, lingering in his eyes before disappearing, faster than she could grasp onto them. The blue pools swept meticulously, leaving no part of her unobserved. When Troy offered her this type kf support, she wavered between refusing his half-lie or selfishly securing it because there was no one and nothing that would really offer her that. Not her apologetic father or her sweet and supportive baby sister.

Troy knew that. He was offering her something that would most likely drive her even further to the fray. But it was something she desperately wanted. Needed, really. Her family couldn't ever give her some typ of comfort. They didn't really understand it. Troy did in a sense and the guys too, but it was Troy who didn't sugarcoat his words or actions with her. Just like how when he brought her back from that panic attack, in that dirty cabin where she'd mutilated two men. He saw the real her and it felt good to be seen in all her rawness. She might as well accept this simple offer from Troy, even if it was some sort of selfish ploy from him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	12. Chapter 12

"Cristine."

"Mr. Otto."

Even to an outsider the greeting between the two was so insincere it was abundantly clear that there was a history of bad blood. More so from Cristine's side as this old coot was the de facto leader of a community with warped ideals.

Jeremiah's main concerns with James's eldest child were the long standing bitterness she dragged along everywhere she went. Certain individuals who couldn't allow bygones be bygones only complicated manners. He had a lot of those in the old world. Jeremiah briefly lowered his gaze and smiled at the thought out distance she put between them by saying his name with such manners. It was cute, and reminded him of his first wife in many ways, perhaps it was why Troy showed such interest in her. He didn't like that his youngest son would stray that way, as it wasn't what he taught him. While different, Troy resembled him the most out of his two sons and it was difficult seeing him getting charmed by this exotic looking Pandora. Jeremiah stretched his hand to offer the young woman on guard a cup of coffee. "No need for the formalities, we're not strangers."

"I don't mind." Cristine showed a tight lipped smile that was completely different from her usual frown. Her cheeks sported the exact same dimples James had when she curved her mouth. Thankfully she accepted the warm drink and cupped it inside her hands, her eyes still vigilant for anomalies in the night.

Jeremiah paused, but didn't mind her brusque nature as much as he would. It would strike him odd if she didn't. "I thought- you and I should have a chat." She neither denied or affirmed this so called 'weight' on his mind, but for Jeremiah it was a sign to continue. He would do his say and be done with it, she seemed to have made her decision to stay on the Ranch indefinitely with the Nation. "I never personally thanked you for what you did for the Ranch. What you do for us." Jeremiah's boots purposely scraped over the ground to stand at a length that was appropriate enough to be counted as safe, but not too distant.

"You don't have to. It was good organizing and teamwork skills from everyone in our community." Cristine shook her head.

"Still, but from what I've heard you and Troy were the gears that kept everyone sharp and focused."

"Well, like I said team effort." Cristine looked at the cup and gently blew at the edge to cool it off. "You don't have to build up this talk Mr. Otto, you can be direct and say what's on your mind."

Jeremiah sipped from his coffee and scratched his throat and filled his line of sight with the same pathway she so intensely held under scrutiny. "This new world is an opportunity for all of us. A new life and a chance to make amends. I ruined my son in the old world, almost drove him mad, but he has a purpose now and he's trying to find himself. Figure out who he is and wants to be in the new world. We all are." Jeremiah sighed and reached out for the wooden shaft that held the barbed fences together.

"What I'm trying to say is that we build something better than before. It won't be an easy thing to do, but I hope you're up to carry that burden with us." Just as she was about to take a sip from her drink, Cristine stopped the movement and removed her mouth from the cup its edge and glanced at the old man. Words left her. She stared into chocolate eyes burning with a staunchness, and her mind blanketed. "That's why I hope we can put all those things in the past, _both_ of us, and start off with a clean slate." He proposed and lifted his cup as a sign of goodwill.

"Well, since you're begging me, we can set it all straight." Cristine raised her cup as well and took a sip of the instant coffee.

Jeremiah nodded more to himself and felt the ache in his back unwind. "You really are your father's daughter. Well don't let me distract you from your work."

"Hmm, hmm." Cristine hummed negatively and watched Jeremiah trek back in the direction of his home. Immediately the smile on her face dropped and Cristine spat out the coffee and emptied the rest of its content on the soil. "Asshole." Jeremiah and Troy were like two peas in a pod. It was as if they synched these 'heart to heart' talks with her. But Jeremiah's confession to her put Troy's offer of coming to him in perspective. She glanced up at the big house and saw from her place the dim shimmer of the light and despite her mind telling her to just go to her cabin, she decided that she wouldn't.

-

To say that Troy was startled to see her here was an understatement. He and his father just finished the late night briefing for the scouting mission to check on Mccarthy's party. They hadn't heard anything from the man who was supposed to return days ago. Just as Troy returned to his room, he saw a moving shadow slither between the crack of the floor and bedroom door. As silent as a prowling snake, Troy removed the gun form his waist, never walking around unarmed, and silently pushed at the door. Narrowing his tight gaze, his eyes had to get used to the darkness of his room, but a few steps in he mad out the silhouette of-

"Cristine!" Troy whispered harshly under his breath before clicking the safety back on with his thumb and uncocked his gun. "What the hell, you can't just enter people's homes like that! You wanna get your brains blown out?" He asked, keeping his voice low and remained still for a second, but much to his irritation her attention was drawn by the simple furniture and minimal decoration inside his room. He tucked his weapon back inside his holster and exhaled, causing his form to slouch. Troy moved towards her and touched her shoulder and the contact did more to break her from her surveying daze.

"Hey, did you hear me?"

"Yeah. Yeah." She gestured distractedly at the carved leather casings on the table, they didn't look like they'd been bought in bulk and had a certain aesthetic to them and the patterns were carved with care and a rare craftsmanship. "Did you make these?"

Troy didn't put much importance to what had just been a hobby as a teen and tugged at her arm until she finally looked at him. "What are you doing here? Did something happen?"

Cristine quickly shook her head which rattled an incredulous frown on his face. She stared at him for a moment, consciously slackened her hands and asked steadily, "do you have a rifle? I don't have the keys for the pantry. And ammo. Do you have that?"

"What for?" His eyes were suspicious.

Cristine rubbed her hands over the side of her pants, glancing at the leather casing on the table. Her voice was heavy when whispering, "I need to blow off some steam."

Troy did a double take, the answer unexpected, but then was reminded of their conversation a few hours ago. How, for the first time, she opened up. Shared her worries and concerns with _him_ of all people. "You mean right now?"

His question made her wring her hands together, a tad impatient and anxious of his response. Cristine made a sound by smacking her lips and shook her head. "Forget I asked. I knew this was stupid."

Just as she was about to leave, Troy blocked her path and held up his hands. Urging her to wait and stay as Troy's mind ran on ways to deal with the situation. His eyes ran over the faded scar on her neck left by Willy a few months ago. It wasn't as angry as when he'd first seen it and for some odd reason Troy wanted to ask her if it still her. Then, her voice pushed through, her words more calculating to draw his attention to the one thing that always piqued his interest. "I saw some dead a few klicks away."

Troy breathed heavily, asking in a low tune, "how much?"

"Around fifty or so."

Troy arched his brow. "And you want to snipe them all down?"

"Listen, you said I could come to you if- I'm coming to you now Troy, don't aks why." Cristine didn't want to explain her reasonings with him; not when she wasn't sure where she currently stood with herself. To live with the choices she made, would probably still have to make in the near future. All under the umbrella term of survival. At first, it was difficult. Losing herself, not caring anymore and avoiding the way her father looked at her. So, Cristine left. While Troy's offer at the sentry tower only managed to muddle her mind, his words made it easier for her to cope. It was good to have someone on her side, even if it was the most questionable and unpredictable person in this place. But Cristine just wanted a distraction and if that was clearing the dead with Troy, so be it. She desperately _needed _this.

Troy's brows furrowed at her plea. Troy hadn't expected it so soon. Hadn't expected her to ask him something so base and simple given that... there was likely something deeper to this request than Cristine let on. To him it seemed like Cristine struggled with other stuff and Troy wasn't quite sure what that was yet. He'd liked to find out and peel down these layers she kept up, even now after all these months. "Wait for me at the blind spot near your cabin. I'll be out in thirty minutes." Dark eyes flicked up at him with surprise, then softened when she realized he wouldn't pry.

-

Cristine gulped down her water. Her mouth and throat feeling unnaturally dry as her heart pound up her throat. It wasn't as if she hadn't cleared the dead before, just not with others. Let alone with Troy's unpredictable ass. Luckily, he accepted her request. Rolling her cap back on, Cristine stuffed the bottle in her knapsack the moment she saw his tall figure skulking around in the night. Propped on his back was the outline of what looked like a bag with two long nuzzles sticking out from the top.

As he drew closer, Cristine eyes roamed over Troy’s neutral expression. For some reason, she expected him to be more excited, but she left the inquiries aside. She didn't expect Troy to be this calm when fulfilling a request that was right up his alley. Leading them through barbed wire, the duo rounded across the Ranch to her parked truck. After another twenty to thirty minutes of driving, Cristine parked the truck out of sight and trekked up the small mountainous road. Her nose twisted at the stench of festering flesh and sour fluids. Then came the out of sync choir of groans. Luckily, the smell and sound were closer than the dead itself upon sight. They were shuffling together in the exact same spot, as if waiting for something.

With narrowed eyes that showed his pensive nature, Troy curled his finger around his riffle before raising it to view the dead through his scope. “That’s more than one person can take on alright." How these dead gathered unknown, but it would turn ugly over time if not dealt with. This wasn't anything they couldn’t handle with their current equipment. "Think we’ll need to expand the forcefield too.”

Cristine agreed, lowering her riffle before she spotted a prone position to shoot down their inanimate targets. Crouching down, Troy pulled out a few boxes of ammunition and silencers to add as a finishing touch to their guns. Neither spoke and were fully focused on upgrading the rifles with the extra tools for this activity to be covert. Just as Cristine was about to settle in behind her gun, Troy tapped her on the shoulder. An arch of her brow to show she listened, but was a tad impatient when he pulled her out of her focus.

"Since we already have the advantage of elevation and equipment, I propose a bet. Let's see who can take out the most." Troy peered at her with a challenging eyes, his vigor rekindled. The proposal sounded tempting and Cristine nodded her head in silent agreement.

"What's in it for the winner?" Cristine asked.

"Some nostalgic goods," Troy smirked, "I'm on my last stash of some good coffee." Cristine squinted her eyes, making sure that Troy wasn't pulling at her leg for laughs.

When she didn't find any form of deceit in his eyes, she questioned his kindness with more suspicion, "that's awfully generous, even for you. What's the catch? Because I don't have anything of equal value."

"No catch, just a favor for when I win." Troy's rebuttal was rather confident. As if he'd won this challenge already and Cristine made a face.

"_If_ you win. Don't get cocky nature boy," Cristine scoffed with a roll of the eyes.

"We have a deal or not doc'?"

"We have a deal."

-

Cristine begrudgingly turfed the final points behind Troy's name on the paper. She chewed on her lip, eyebrows scrunched together when she counted him as victor of this little match. "We're definitely doing a rematch." The first few rounds went so well, Cristine even outranked Troy at first. Then, it looked like he was done warming up and got headshot after headshot, whereas she didn't.

Troy fought back the smirk on his lips and lowered his riffle. Peering at the empty plot of land with the lifeless corpses, Troy glanced at the shadowed heaps of bodies. It was quiet, but the stench in the chilly night air was heavy. "Didn't know you were such a sore loser," Troy said before getting up from his position.

"Whatever, let's clean up this mess. Don't want to contaminate the soil," Cristine made a face.

The rest of their night was spend driving corpses to the disposal area near the elevated cliffs. Since it was just the two of them, they had to drive a couple of times, but the intensity of the job was a welcome distraction for Cristine. This recreational type of clean-up cleared her mind and she was able to put it all-in retrospective. As they used this place as a dumping site and perimeter for their forcefield to keep the dead away, Cristine did a quick check-up on the tied-up dead. Most were docile, but they croaked to life when they realized this presence in front of them was an oddity. Cristine scratched the center of her head as she finished tightening the turned bodies of a male and female corpse against the rocks. Their arms and jaws were cut clean and Cristine took a single step back and stared at the husk that was once a living person. The face was dried up and the light of intelligence in its eyes were grayed out and glazed. The gap on the neck had rotten and its half eaten face showed lots of bone and muscle. It looked like one of those realistic Halloween costumes. The reanimated body twitched with a rekindled liveliness, but that vigor would soon fade when she left. Neither this dead or the others would be able to turn other people anymore and Cristine was satisfied with that piece of knowledge.

"You should take a picture," the voice startled her and Cristine twisted in reflex. "It'll last longer."

Troy.

The brunette held his hands up in fake surrender when walking up to her. His expression mild and once he stopped and stood next to her, he tilted his body forward to scrutinize the mutilated body. Other than that he said nothing and just stood there with her in silence. Cristine wouldn't break the silence, had no need to. She wasn't sure if he came here to check on her or portray himself as this person one could confide in, but he always seemed to approach her after blood was spilled. Specifically when she was involved in doing the spilling.

After a while, Troy muttered, "it's like the dead procreated. Shame we still haven't figured out the why."

"I guess," Cristine hummed softly before shifting on her feet and kicking some dirt up with the end of her boot. "I'm not bothered by it… not anymore at least. When there are other threats, you forget this is what all of us will end up as."

"I still want to know why we spoil," Troy continued with such resplendence in his voice, it would sway anyone listening to him in fascination if not for the fact that it was about the dead. "Don't you think we have the right to explore? Look at Newton… the way he stabbed his eye to understand how light entered the human eye."

"So you'll gravely injure yourself to understand why we turn?" Cristine briefly glanced at Troy from the corner of her eyes. He was still looking at the tied up bodies and looked half dazed and half in trance by them.

"Wouldn't you?" This time, Cristine fully snapped her gaze from the hissing dead onto Troy. She fought the urge to flinch when she realized he'd been unashamedly staring at her. He didn't look surprised that he was caught doing it too. It did unnerve her when Troy did that, looking at her as if she was something he needed to dissect. It was the same way he looked at the infected. Seeing he had her full attention, Cristine straightened his shoulders and body posture.

Cristine began with a skeptical approach, "Joseph Barcroft was afraid hydrocyanic acid wouldn't kill enough people in World War I. He tested it on himself in a sealed chamber and pumped it full with airborne poison. He also took a dog with him. After a minute the dog died and he didn't." She narrowed her eyes, "the only thing his experiment proved that it wasn't worth millions to invest into something with momentarily giddiness as its only side effect. Nothing came out of it. I feel the same way about this. Even if we know the why, it's not going to solve a thing or magically present a cure."

"That's called dedication to the cause." Troy was utterly impressed by her story still and ignored the woman's roundabout way of saying experimenting were a waste of time. "At least he knew it wasn't worth it in the end."

"Like what you did at the depot?"

Troy made a sound similar to a huff and chuckle and shrugged, "I did research and documented valuable information. So we can learn." Troy was always honest and true in what he believed and he'd learned a lot of stuff now that he didn't need Cristine's advice on the dead anymore. He'd respect her enough to leave the inquiries be ever since their troubling hunting trip back with the others.

"Learn what?" Cristine usually didn't question what Troy did. She didn't want to know in all honesty, but Jake admitted that Troy's obsession was getting out of control. It was why Jeremiah send his youngest son out on that fuel run. With Otto Sr. his excuses of Troy trying 'to understand himself' and 'find his place in the world' it made her want to look at Troy differently. But she couldn't see it. Jeremiah did what he did to keep the Survivalist appeased and in the dark of what was hidden inside Troy. He didn't want people to talk or distracted by his son's unpredictable antics.

Troy tipped her head in the direction of the husks and explained his experiments, it still send shivers down the spine to hear him talk so clinically about people who ended up in the wrong place, at the wrong time. "I collected data on the reanimation process based on gender and BMI. My initial formula was correct when I applied it the field. It would take me roughly 87 minutes to turn and you 72 minutes. Unfortunately, I couldn't spare resources on samples that were bit to determine the time for the pathogen to activate and spread. The only solid example we had was Ben. He turned in 59 minutes. It's a shame really."

A brief glance at the tied corpses made Troy run his tongue along his teeth. His right hand twitched before raising it. A light frown settled in the space of Cristine's brows, her face went taut and she glowered up at him. Troy hovered his hand near her shoulder for a moment before eventually resting it down, giving it a light squeeze. "I know we argue and disagree on a lot of things. And I don't think that will ever change." Troy smirked secretively, finding it liberating he didn't have to keep all his thoughts to himself. Jake call it messed up, but Troy didn't think so. He was comfortable just being himself around the woman. Despite all her scowling or their difference in opinions, Troy didn't really feel the need to hide. Whether it was about disposing threats or dealing with the dead like this. It felt liberating.

"But I like to think we're friends." He tried not to swallow, not even when her eyes clouded over in perplexity and her brows furrow into a tighter knot. Troy wasn't going to fight that he wanted a mutual friendship. She was in the Ranch now and he'd gotten used to her presence and opinions. He welcomed them with open arms. She was like him in many ways and also wasn't. And the dissimilar traits interested Troy greatly, because he didn't fully understand them. He wanted to know why she was the way she was.

"Why?" Troy blinked at the question, expecting her to scoff or make some accusatory remarks about all the things he said and done to her. Troy hoped Cristine could get over the past as easily as he could. If it was one thing, Cristine could be a petty person at heart. However, Troy had shown her a lot of goodwill with Luciana, the outpost and all that. He thought some of that had to matter. He made sure she got outpost Beta, he _picked_ her to be part of the Ranch; part of his home. Tonight was another example: Cristine _came_ to _him_ first out of trust and need for a sense of peace and that made a different type of pride swell inside of him.

"Because you're not a bullshitter like most people around here." Her eyes were alight with a trace of reservation for a long, silent moment before they moved to his hand on her shoulder. For a moment it looked as if Cristine was going to slap it away, but underneath his palm felt her tense muscles relax.

"Whatever you say," Cristine sighed, her tone soft before she shrugged his hand off with a light movement. It didn't feel like she was angry or loathed his presence, she was just being Cristine. Troy knew this was the best he would get out of her. He'd be more suspicious had she welcome his peace offering with open arms. Troy flashed a smile with pearly straight teeth before slightly lowering his gaze as if coming to terms with the new label. 

To Cristine, Troy's behavior was odd. She wanted to ask what the hell was wrong with him, but as her eyes roamed across his expressive face, she chose to keep her snappy comments to herself. Pushing back the strands of her curls behind her ear, she looked at the row of dead scarecrows.

_Friends._

Cristine hadn't expected such an innocent request and docile reaction from Troy. The twinkle in his eyes and the smile on his face weren't hard to notice... and Cristine couldn't ignore it any longer. The nagging feeling in her brain, tugging at her to realize what this meant. Blinking fast it hit her abruptly like a punch in the gut; Troy really wanted to be friends. No games. No business transaction. Nothing.

-

Barely three hours passed, after clearing the dead, Troy and Cristine silently returned as they left. Cristine handed Troy the riffle and paused as he moved his hand inside the duffle bag and fished out something in his right hand. Cristine hoisted her own knapsack back on and turned her head to the side, brow arched.

"Here." He took her hand and pushed something with a rough and leather like feel inside her palm. Cristine blinked in surprise to see that it was one of the leather casings she'd been looking at in his room. Her fingers ran over the engraving on the surface. "I saw you looking at it and I noticed yours was kind of old and worn. It should fit your knife." A quick and small smile graced Cristine's face when her eyes rose to his. With a grunt, Troy silently nodded and under her grateful gaze swallowed. For a moment it was quiet.

"Hailey told me you guys are planning to check on outpost Alpha.” Cristine said, breaking the silence while she locked the dagger and its new casing around the loop of her pants.

Troy fought back the smirk on his face, eyes not missing how her fingers absently stroked the leather. He was in a very good mood _and_ made more friends in the span of a few days than all of his years. "Yeah. We haven't gotten any news from McCarthy ever since he and his squad left to check on the crash site. You wanna come with?"

"Depends on how big the party is." Cristine shrugged nonchalantly and leaned against the wooden railing of her small porch. She folded her arms under her chest.

"Me," he pointed at himself telling her the obvious and counted the rest of the members on his fingers. "Mike, Coop, Blake, Jimmy... and Madison Clark."

Cristine arched her brow, not expecting the head of the Clark family to actually join in anything which Troy was involved. Still, she couldn't help but feel a little bit of pride that the woman had listened to her words of advice. Doing this would definitely earn her and her family a place as deserving members. However, the furrow of her brow betrayed her suspicion.

"Yeah, she's being really aggressive, even came to sit next to me during breakfast instead of her kids." Troy must've seen the skepticism on her face when mentioning Madison.

Cristine shrugged, "that sounds like a you problem. She's doing it for her family, obviously. If she's that forward with it, I bet she's willing to do anything to earn her keep." Cristine bit on her tongue and swallowed the next words that wanted to leave her mouth. _Be careful with her. _The look in Troy's eyes reminded her of the exact same game he played- still played with her.

_I ruined my son in the old world, almost drove him mad, but he has a purpose now and he's trying to find himself._ Jeremiah's comment about Troy echoed like a broken record. Tight-lipped Cristine stared at the light in his clear eyes. Troy wanted the worthy people he "picked" for the Ranch here, the people he could identify with in some shape or form to help find himself. People like him, people who'd destroy and bring the others around them in danger for the sake of the things they wanted to protect. Cristine guessed Madison fell in that category.

"I know." Troy seemed to be in thought. "It's why I picked her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	13. Chapter 13

Cristine clicked her tongue and rubbed at her nick in her neck, as if doing that would make it go away. She'd have to pull through for the rest of the day and mind her position next time she and Troy-

Next time.

A small frown wrinkled her face before she quickly dried herself with the towel and changed in a pair of fresh clothes. Just as she finished buttoning her shirt, there was a knock on her door. "Come in," she said and turned around to the night stand to grab her knife and gun. The hinges of the front door creaked when the person opened it from the outside. Since she was half turned to the door, she was surprised to see Blake enter with a tray of food and coffee in his hand.

"Mornin'. Got you some breakfast. You're lucky too, got you some of the last batch of coffee." He was in an awfully cheery mood and Cristine ran her tongue over her teeth behind her closed lips. She quickly flashed him a tight smile when the dark blonde looked at her with a chipper expression after he put the tray and beverage on the table.

"Thanks," Cristine answered with a nod.

Blake purposely looked around her single cabin. He only set foot in here a few times, but it hadn't changed. A bed with a small nightstand and cabinet near the wall, a table with two chairs in the center. There were a few books on top of the cabinet. It was very simple and a minimalistic. After his perusing stare, Blake looked back and felt his mouth twitch. Dark, chestnut brown orbs peer back with faint inquiry. Breathing in briefly, Blake lifted his arms so he could put his hands on his hips. "Thought I'd check on you since it's rare for you to be up this late."

Cristine held back the yawn that threatened to spill past her lips, not trying to betray that she did a late night therapy session of clearing the dead and was the reason for her morning fatigue. "Yeah, I couldn't really sleep and before I knew it, the sun got up. You guys leaving already?"

Blake lightly rubbed his hands on the sides of his uniform before nodding, "Almost done packing. We're leaving in thirty. Troy said maybe you'd come?" Blake narrowed his eyes and a trace of concern flashed in his eyes, "you sure you're up to it?"

Cristine ran her tongue over her lips and snorted as if she'd hear a funny joke. First of all, Blake was rambling and secondly, he was treating her as some type of glass china set. "Blake." Cristine lifted her hand to stop him from talking and he did just that. She placed her gun in the holster at her side and asked, "what're you doing?"

Blake didn't really try to hide his concern that well now that Cristine was blunt with her question. The frown swallowed his amicable mask. He lightly lowered his head to hide the faintest chewing motion. "Just looking out for you... making sure you're not pushing yourself. With the infirmary shifts you've been taking during the day and patrol duty at night, not to mention your chores during the day. Maybe you should sit this one out."

"I hadn't made my decision yet really," Cristine shrugged unfazed by Blake's well-meant concern. She just didn't understand where this was all coming from. "Stop being weird and tell me what's wrong."

"Nothing's wrong," Blake sighed, slightly frustrated that Cristine wouldn't just take his advice and do as he asked for once. But that wouldn't be Cristine so he clarified, "I just have a gut feeling that you staying back with the others is better than coming with us."

Cristine ran her tongue over the inside of her cheeks, stared at her friend for a silent minute and scratched the corner of her head, a subtle sign that she was contemplating his request. If it was someone outside of her family Cristine considered trusting and respecting their opinion, without a doubt, Blake was definitely on that list. "You think it's that bad?

"You don't?" Blake asked, brow arched. "It's been over 36 hours with no contact back from McCarthy or anyone from the party. We have to be ready for anything and after us, you're the ones the newbies look up to..." Blake then grinned, "also, you look like shit and will hold us back if you decide to tag along."

"You could've just said you needed me here instead of being an ass about it." Cristine rolled her eyes and walked to the small table to grab her bowl of home fry. She half ignored Blake after he more or less insulted her dreary appearance to instead focus on the food she so needed this morning.

"You know It's all love. Also, stop taking so many shifts and let the greenhorns do it. Perks of being looked up to." Blake significantly relaxed when it sounded like Cristine was going to stay behind. He just had this uncanny feeling this retcon mission wasn't going to go as planned and if that was the case, he'd rather Cristine stay here to protect their families if they didn't make it. He'd never admit it out loud, but the often grouchy woman had become one of his soft spots.

-

"There she is! Our Amazon warrior herself! I hear you're staying back to watch the fort." The grinning sight of Jimmy, Mike and Coop was a sore sight to witness, but the comment made Cristine scowl as she flipped them with both fingers. "You better say goodbye to that moonshine of yours Coop," Jimmy laughed heartily and slapped the bearded man on the shoulder. Coop grumbled some cuss under his breath, clearly unhappy.

"You assholes made a bet... why?" Cristine didn't want to know, but then again she did and she felt a splitting headache grow when she heard Jimmy explain, all whilst trying to flirt with her from some reason. Didn't this pervert finally have girlfriend? He was gloating about it every chance he got. Cristine was in no mood to get in between a couple's quarreling, let alone become some target for a woman's jealousy.

"Coop over here was sure you wouldn't pass on the mission. Me and Blake were a bit hesitant, but since you're paranoid about every little thing, we knew you'd stay." Cristine narrowed her gaze and jerked her head to look at Blake who smiled sheepishly. So aside from needing her so called skills here, she was just part of his bet and she fell right into it. Cristine was too tired to be even annoyed with Blake since he wouldn't insult her like this. She believed there was a truth to his request in her cabin and she too had this uncanny feeling inside her gut.

"Good to know I'm worth nothing more than some badly crafted attic booze," Cristine grumbled.

"Hey!" Coop was clearly insulted by her words to describe his moonshine and was about to defend _the_ most valuable skill and recipe he learned from his great grandfather, "you take that back Gerrard. This recipe has been in my family for decades. My great-granddaddy Cooper passed it to my grandaddy, who passed it on to me for when bad times to come. It's what makes a man."

"Yeah. Yeah. Family recipes and whatnot," Jimmy slung his arm around Cristine's neck and tried to placate Cristine with all the gathered 'suave', "don't listen to his rambling. And staying back ain't an insult. Tell you what I can share some of it with you with some time alone under the moonlight. No need to thank me."

A dimpled smile suddenly appeared on Cristine's face and coyly batted her eyes, something Hailey often did with Mike. "Oh Jimbo, If you wanted to make Rachel jealous, all you had to do was ask." With a playful nudge with her knuckles on his opened jaw and she relished at the embarrassed expression on his face.

"That's not-" now it was the blonde's turn to scowl at her, the crimson flush on his face betraying him. He opened his mouth to deny her accusations, but the jeering comments of his men only drowned out his sputtering protests.

_"So childish."_ Cristine rolled her eyes and threw some of the supplies she helped Blake carry in the back of the truck and fastened them with the rest of the weapons. The guy's banter was just a menial distraction to the fact that they were going out as a group again a few days since the depot. Cristine wasn't there, but from Jake she heard it was brutal. Shortly after that, their sole transport through the air and its pilot got shot down by some unknown cook. Now, the search party in that area remained unresponsive and Troy and the guys volunteered to look for McCarthy. Scrunching her eyebrows together, Cristine zoned out as her mind ran wild. What if this _was_ in fact an ambush? Them being gone would leave the militia a bit weaker, the Ranch and their families vulnerable for hostile attacks. It made sense that Blake requested she stay behind, but that didn't mean she wasn't worried about these assholes going out in the unknown. What if they went there and walk right in this trap? She overheard McCarthy once about the land being roamed by 'Indians' who knew the terrain there better. Cristine didn't listen to the coot ramble, because all the racist slurs and insults spewed from his tongue like a geyser of shit.

Sucking in her cheeks, Cristine lifted her head back up to gather her bearings and barely flinched to see that she was being watched. Locking eyes with Madison Clark across the field from where she stood with her children and it felt like being dissected by her. Troy mentioned that the mother was a guidance councilor at a high school before this. It was her job to read people, even if they were just teenagers. A skill that probably kept not only her, but her family alive this long amongst other people. People were moldable and unpredictable. Cristine respected the mother as equally as she was wary of her. A mother's love was dangerous. Cristine showed Madison a faint smile and looked away when she nodded back in acknowledgement. She didn't miss how her children reluctantly said their goodbyes. They seemed to disagree, but also looked worried for their mother. A large reason probably had to do with Troy.

"So you're not coming huh?" As if the devil himself heard, Troy appeared at her side to drop a few more supplies. After hearing the woman's decision he couldn't really be that annoyed with the reasoning behind it. They were on decent terms again and at hindsight it was good to have a more experienced mind stay behind. "Well, it's probably for the best to have someone to keep an eye out." 

"I hadn't really made up my mind. Blake made some good arguments... even if it was so he could score some booze." Cristine tried her hardest to ignore the blue eyes on the side of her face and focused on her hands securing their supplies. "I can't complain since it's better to be prepared than sorry." She wasn't the only restless one after the helicopter attacked. "Can't leave anything up to chance. I mean McCarthy didn't want to use the mapping I made of the area around the crash site and now there's no word of him or the others. Even my father's worried and I haven't seen him like that." Straightening her pose, Cristine fumbled with one of the cords when a crease appeared between her eyebrows. "He thinks this is a trap."

"And so do you." Cristine rolled her tongue over her lips at his statement and half-heartedly pulled her shoulders up and finally looked at Troy. One normal and one swollen eye peered back at with a calculated certainty that she weighed out the worst case scenario but wouldn't say it out loud. Troy hadn't been that pessimistic, _yet_, but he was pondering all types of scenarios given that some time passed with no news from McCarthy. He and his team could be dead. And while it was best not to spook the rest, Cristine was someone he could be brutally honest about it. She seemed to think more clearly during the chaos. Was more patient. 

"I think," Cristine started, tone more hesitant and softer, "it's best to be prepared for prepared for more casualties and this not just being the work of some nutjob. The Ranch is safely hidden between the elevated mountains, but that also means its easier for others to watch us too. It's a lot of land" Her gaze flicked around the outer fences and Troy briefly followed her gaze and let her speculation dawn to him.

Troy began, "I get it. We need to cover all possible scenarios on this. But we're stronger than before. It's payback for Charlie too. First blood was drawn and we'll make them pay." As difficult as it was for Troy to strike a casual conversation with Cristine about subjects not linked to survival, he could always count on the woman's pragmatic and realistic views. "Just a tip, if you want to convince Big Otto; convince Jake. My brother is the one my father looks to lead this place one day." There was something heavy and almost envious in the way Troy stated that simple, but important fact of his family and their dynamics. It made Cristine slightly uncomfortable that he was willing to share it with her. 

So the next words tumbled from Cristine's mouth before she knew it, "your father clearly trusts you more to lead missions like these and supply runs." The taller man paused before a sound that resembled a combination of a faint chuckle and a huff escaped his lips. His body relaxed and Troy stared at Cristine for one long moment before pushing himself from the truck after covering the supplies.

"It's kind of what he taught us to do." Troy looked away with renewed vigor and his mood considerably brightened despite the severity of the conversation. Troy surveyed the rest of his small squad and all the people who were bustling doing their chores. He took a moment to take in the sight of the community his father build and what he'd been preparing him and his family for. "We protect what's ours against people who want it and punish the assholes that did us wrong," Troy said and felt the woman stand in line next to him to look at the rather naïve scenery of their community members that didn't have a clue what the outside world was like. They were scared and the milita provided them that shield not to be frightened of anything anymore.

Cristine assessed the people and it was almost convincing to forget there was even a hell outside of this. She tapped on her right leg before shifting on her feet. "If something does go wrong," Cristine began, "Charlie convinced me survival caches are_ the_ second most important thing I needed to learn as a Survivalist. Just so you know, she helped me hide one between the in and out trail between the outposts." She darted her eyes away from the scene onto Troy. He arched a brow after she shared that simple piece of information with him and it slowly dawned to him that she was in fact worried about them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	14. Chapter 14

"Ngh," as much as she tried to stifle the sound, Luciana couldn't help but groan when she felt the digits press into the healed tissue close to her shoulder. Said woman raised her head to watch the infirmary ceiling and kept back the burn in her sockets. Luciana her stomach reflexively clenched from the push against the sore, but healing trauma. But she welcome the pain given the argument she and Nick had this morning. She wanted to leave this place as soon as possible, even with her boyfriend's hesitation. She wasn't sure if it was because he was afraid to leave his family or because the guilt and obligation he felt towards his mother for going through hell, which got her husband, Travis, killed in the process. At least he promised that he wouldn't make her live here any longer than necessary and join her to Mexicali. He convinced her to at least stay and take advantage of the medical food and supply to get back to her fully strength.

Luciana hissed out softly and reflexively jerked her shoulder back from the stinging cotton swab of antiseptic to clean it all. In spite of herself she glared at the curly-haired woman who told her to suck it up and Luciana tried to do just that. **"I heard people talking about the old couple who died in the fire,"** she began in Spanish to drive her mind away from the pain and from Nick. **"it reminded me of my own grandmother and grandfather. The first passed from old age and the other from loneliness... But ****I ****believe** **they're together... somewhere even with the dead amongst us in physical form."**

"You sound like my grandmother," Cristine reminisced with a smile and placed a fresh bandage on the place. "The holiest and strictest woman that ever existed. Had a fit when my cousins and I weren't back home at five. She just had to wave her slipper at us and we'd behaved. She never once used it on us though."

**"Ah yes, the fearsome slippers, for my brother and I those were our battle wounds when we got older."** Luciana shook her head and joined Cristine in her laughter of the shared of a background not that different from her own. Grasping at the top of her buttoned up blouse back up her shoulders Luciana realized it was the first time she smile this sincerely since coming here. It was silly, but ever since the dead rose she didn't remember the last time she showed other emotions than sadness, hate, anger and usually negative emotions. At least not until her Colonia and Nick decided to search for a new home. All of them were either dead or missing and simply being reminded of that swallowed her smile.

Cristine witnessed how Luciana's bright expression eventually dimmed after she discarded the dirty bandages and disposable gloves into the bin of medical waste. "Sorry, I know it's hard being reminded about before. Knowing it's all-in the past and so normal and that it'll never come back."

The sharpness inside Luciana's eyes returned together with her vigilance, similar to the very first day. Wounded, but still filled with so much fight. She then remembered the gunshot wound her caretaker showed her on the leg and how she still stayed in this place with the very same man that did it to her. From what Nick told her, the relationship between her and that monstrous man was so very bizarre to be even called one. Parting her mouth, Luciana asked directly, "don't you want to kill him? For what he's done to you?" The question started Luciana even at first, the words almost accusatory and scathing to the infirmary that only housed the two of them. But when those dark eyes gawk at her calmly and a practiced indifference emerged Luciana didn't feel that bad for being blunt about it. **"The day you said it was safe to uncuff me he did,**" the crease between her eyebrows deepened, **"he began to rambled about this world just part of nature finally responding. That it was probably him who shot me when me and my people crossed the border. All the anger and hate returned and knowing it was his fault, I promised I would kill him. He smiled when I said that."**

"..."

A cynical laugh escaped Luciana's mouth while buttoning up her blouse and making sure she wasn't straining her wound. "I am not judging you... your family is here, but I get the feeling they and everyone else knows what he is... what he does and what he can do. I am grateful for what you've done for me Cristine, but I can't stay in this place. It goes against who I am and it doesn't make me feel safe. And I believe that's also a reason why you had your own place for a while, away from here." Luciana tried her best to not judge the woman, but from what she knew, it was hard not to look at her with wariness. Especially when it involved that monster. She had allowed bad things to happen to her and she still could stand his presence? Even look past all he did. That was insane.

"You don't know me," Cristine scoffed and crossed her arms under her chest and raised her chin. She was caught off-guard by the straightforward questions and clinched her teeth hard. "If you think he holds that much power over me to bend over and surrender, you're underestimating me. It just sounds you're upset cause Nick doesn't really want to leave, which means you'd be alone."

**"Better to be alone without having to compromise what I believe. Making allowances for monster-"**

**"We're all monsters,"** Cristine spat into her mother's native tongue, clearly annoyed by word that hit a nerve and once clung to in all her naivete and hardheadedness to leave the Ranch in spite of her family. **"What use are values when you're dead? When you have to run from the dead and living. You've been out so you can't be that naïve to think that the monsters out there are worse than the ones in here?"**

Luciana nodded, she wasn't blind to the walls, safety, food and water this place provided her. But she struggled with understanding such a complicated answer to a simple yes and no question. **"Choosing the lesser of two evils is still evil. I'm sorry for hurting your feelings and questioning your decisions. You have been the only one who has been welcoming and under different circumstances I believe we could have been friends. I think that's one of the reasons you have been so kind and caring, so that you won't have to feel alone or different."**Cristine blinked at her, her facial expression slack but her eyes so tense it reminded Luciana of the person she once was when she was still together with her brother Pablo during the apocalypse. Sharing their woes, pains and little moments of happiness together because they could. Even when they were the odd ones out at the Colonia at first, they had each other to share those feelings too. The woman's family couldn't quite give her all of that and Luciana puzzled together that in a way she perhaps was that missing piece for Cristine to connect with the feeling of not fully belonging.

-

"Hey stranger," Cristine was that focused on making a her some new portable emergency-kits on her porch that she jumped in surprise when the tall figure of Jake reappeared in her peripheral. "You were brooding," Jake's soft smile ebbed away her unamused scowl by half and she stuck out her tongue.

"I was not." Cristine jutted out her chin and made room when Jake nudged her on the shoulder.

"Now you're pouting." Jake was cheering considering that he was placating and comforting the Ranch members. The deaths of Martha and Russell Brown was a hard blow, given that Russel was one of the Founding Fathers of what Broke Jaw had become. Jake was continuously doing checkups and mingling with the community members. She couldn't imagine how he tired he must be having to be strong.

"I'm your last check-up for the day?" Cristine zipped the medium sized medical packet close and buried it inside the duffle bag next to her. It was a long day of doing chores and the sun was slowly starting set into the horizon. As per Blake's advice, Cristine delegated patrol to the other recruits. She had her walkie-talky near so could be up-to-date with all established lines.

"I didn't know you needed one." Jake said with curiosity in his equally warm eyes.

"I don't. But talking is always good." Resting her elbows on her kneecaps, Cristine raised her arms and pressed the side of her face into them with a tilt of the head. "How've you been these past days?" Jake was an expert at avoiding his feelings for others when it came to talking about them. The eldest Otto son rather carry everyone else's pain on his shoulders than focus on his own. Cristine wasn't going to let it slide when she asked him about Charlie the first time and he deflected the question. Her eyes lingered on the older man, the shifts on his face from forced indifference slightly crumbled.

"Considering everything? I haven't really had the chance to really think about it. There's still so much work to do and so many grief and hurt in our community who have it harder than-"

"Jake," Cristine interrupted her friend and reached for his hand and just held it inside hers. Despite hers being smaller and more slender than Jake's, the strength it contained was so impressive he reflexively squeezed back. "It's alright if you're not alright." Jake was able to pull himself together, he was soft but to Cristine so strong in many ways too. Feeling the quivering strength inside his palms, a damp layer glistened inside his eyes when the answer could not come and Cristine nudged him closer for an embrace. She rubbed the back of his nape with her thumb as Jake silently sniffled. The tremor of his shoulders and chest unconsciously weighed on her own limbs as much as her mind.

Why did it feel as if everyday it was just new pain and grief?

"Little Bird, this is Joseph calling in from the west flank," the static of the Walky-talky was an unwelcome interruption. Jake pulled away from the embrace and expertly shielded his face from Cristine who pulled up her nose softly. She pretended not to notice his flushed cheeks and reached for the walkie and thumbed at the button.

"Joseph, this is little Bird. Report," Cristine said rubbing the ends of her eye and looked into the distance with a deep frown. The fact that one of the guards called in was a bit worrying, but she kept her face steady as she listened to the message from the other side.

"Part of our forcefield is compromised," the voice on the other side began and it immediately elicited a tense response from Cristine. "It doesn't look like an accident, but deliberate... also, whoever did this left some kind of message behind?"

"What kind of message?" Cristine clenched her jaw before jumping to her feet, Jake close at her side while listening, his face clenched tightly as he too listened to the report.

"I think it's better if you see for yourself boss."

-

Dark eyes surveyed the lifeless corpses of the dead that were tied together to form a berth around the outer perimeter of the Ranch. The blows were all stabs through the head and from the way the blood dried on the sand, it only looked like a few hours had passed. Leveling from her hunches, Cristine moved her gaze from the dead to the, Holden, who'd call this in. He was her age, had a round face and a reddish brown beard and hair. Lowering her eyes to the skull inside his hands. Aside from the tiny round hole near the center of the head, there wasn't anything worthwhile about it. Cristine arched a brow at him in silent inquiry.

"Found a few more of these littered near the area. The placements seem to be random but they all have bullet holes in the cranium." The frown on her face deepened. Other than a clear-cut ominous warning aimed at them, Cristine didn't understand the meaning behind these skulls. Some crazies taking their sweet time to clean up human skulls and leave them here for them to find. "The tracks were too vague to lead anywhere, but there was activity here."

From the corner of her eyes Cristine saw see Jake with an equally puzzled, but calmer expression on his features. Perhaps he had an inkling of what this could mean. "What do you think?"

"I think they wanted us to know how close they were and left these behind. It's a message. A clear and direct death message. A threat, really."

"A very specific and tedious one too," Cristine mused taking in the bullet holes. "All of them have bullet holes. They clearly took their time to literally clean them up and leave these behind. Could it be those cartels? They'd have free reign to cross the border now. Or someone you guys are connected to from before?"

"I'm not sure." Jake shook his head as equally clueless, but Cristine had the feeling he must be pondering several possibilities. "We need to clean this up. I'll tell my dad. In the meantime, we need to tighten watch."

"Got it," Cristine nodded and began to delegate the orders. "We'll fix that forcefield tomorrow, just make sure you're not alone. We patrol in groups of two from now. Call in anything suspicious, even if it's crooked grass." Scanning the area, her gut clenched just thinking of their small party being out and her suspicions being correct, _"someone's been watching us."_

-

"What kind of chicken shit bull is this?" Jeremiah watched the grey colored skull as if he witnessed a very bad joke being told at him. His eyes switched back and forth between Jake and Cristine before focusing on his firstborn. The elderly man was in his chair behind his desk with the lamp burning inside his meeting room. Night had fallen and just when he was about to go to bed for the night, his son brought him this relic and retold him what their guards found.

"We don't know, but there were a few more of these. Tracks were erased, but someone was here and clearly left wanted us to see their message." Jake his back was pressed into the wall, just close to his father's desk as he explained. Cristine sat on the stool without any support and listened to the two.

"What message?" Jeremiah scoffed rather unimpressed, "this is some childish attempt to scare us. It's clearly someone who sees what we have and wants it. If this person had the balls to do that, they would. Which means they can't."

"Still. We should be cautious," Jake was a lot calmer than his father and a less prickly by this threat. "First McCarthy and now this-"

"We don't know what happened to Phil until we hear something. Any word from Troy?"

Cristine opened her mouth to answer, "last contact moment was in the afternoon. They were almost at the crash site... we haven't heard anything since then sir." The old man's expression was indifferent to her report, but a slight nod that he welcomed her input. "We've increased the amount of people to patrol and call in more frequently between the lines." Chewing her lips, Cristine asked the same question she did Jake, "Mr. Otto, Jake told me that this area always has been a violent place. Aside from the usual stragglers, cartels or smugglers from across the borders, is there anyone else that might have it out for this land? This threat is pretty specific. A bullet through the head means an execution."

"I understand you think this might be something deeper young lady," Jeremiah's voice lowered an octave and it felt like Cristine struck a nerve with that simple question, "but it isn't. I've always had to defend my land from assholes who don't want to work ever since my boys were kids. This isn't any different from back then and defending it with my life won't be any different either."

"I understand Mr. Otto, I just think we should-"

"I don't care what you think. This is my business to handle and your opinion has been heard. Now I'd like to discuss this further with my son in private. I reckon you have better things to do."

_"Asshole." _Cristine bit her tongue, shook her head at this prideful old coot and was slightly swayed by Jake's wan, but supporting smile. "I'll be on my way then." The frost returned to Cristine's eyes when she exited the big house and walked down the hill. She and her family weren't going to be defenseless cause some prideful man couldn't suppress his clear bias towards her. Whatever, at least she got some power in the militia to actually put her words into action. Unclipping the walky-talky from her waistband, Cristine thumbed into it to call Joseph, "Joe make sure you're ready at the gates in five. We're going out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you guys noticed, I will make changes into the story canon wise compared to what you might now. Hope you guys like what I'll have in store for the plot and characters.


	15. Chapter 15

Wincing from the pain in her side and jaw, Cristine clenched her molars together. The pounding stab in her head made her stiffen, as another surge of pain racketed through her frame. Clenching the handle tightly in her grip, she pulled out the blade its full length from her victim underneath and stabbed him in the nape afterwards. Panting, she stretched her neck and tried to look for Joseph in the dark but only saw their busted truck from the other jeep that rammed into theirs and cursed. The two were out on the road to gather intel and the culprits weren't that far behind. A trio set up their camp a few miles away. Long story short; Cristine and Joseph had agreed to disarm them and in fact caught them off guard, but weren't aware their trio was a quartet. A gunfight ensued, dead were attracted. She got into a physical altercation with the one underneath her, but now she lost Joseph and the other three were nowhere to be seen. Patting her walkie, she noticed that it was busted, so there was no way to call home. But first she had to find Joseph.

  
Cristine readied her legs and prepared herself to run the final stretch back. Her breathing steadied and she thanked her discipline. She was glad to still do morning and night runs from her track years days during high school and college. It gave her the advantage of doing long runs or short sprints without much effort. She was so grateful to her nagging father to keep exercising. Then, something moved up ahead. Cristine froze before lowering her legs slowly. Something had definitely twitched in the field. She could hear something, too. A moaning. A person? She wasn't sure. Cristine move slowly into the field again. She flanked to the right slightly, out of the direct path of the movement. She jogged, slower than before, and readied her blade. She'd use it again if she had to. As she got closer to the source of the movement, she saw another twitch.

Cristine stopped.

There was definitely someone there. She crouched down. She felt her heart best against her chest and stepped forward towards the movement, keeping low. The cawing of the insects almost deafening in her ear, as was every step in the dry, lifeless patch of rocks and dirt. Cristine took another few steps closer to the movement. It was a matter of meters away now. Whatever it was let out another noise. That was definitely moaning and sounded like a wet chewing sound? Feeling a chill, Cristine raised her knife. Tensed all the muscles in her body. Reached for the edge of the slab she used as a shield. Three, two, one... she pulled herself up and ready to strike the steel into flesh when she froze and saw it. The moaning were breathless gasps of pain as a single reanimated corpse tore through his gut and feasted on his intestines. Seemed like the one that turned was one of his own and not Joseph. That was two birds in one stone. Cristine coldly watch the man's blood covered mouth part as his teary gaze silently begged her to release him from his misery. She tapped the edge of her blade and after debating that she wouldn't waste her time, twisted on her heels to look for Joe instead.

Another break in the action heightened Cristine's senses. The silence closed in again. As her eyes adjusted to the outline of the area, she followed the first simmer of fresh blood smeared across the stone. With a short, yet shallow breath did Cristine vigilantly look around. The area was silent aside from the distant croaks of the dead. She rolled her knife between her wrapped up palm as she stalked along the mangy bushes and pointy rocks. The singing of the insects grew louder. She moved on and focused. She saw everything clear now. Knew what she had to do. She had to kill. Was going to. She stretched her legs and started to jog again, through the soft ground and in the direction of the brighter fire. Being out in the open like this was not good too vulnerable and there was one more around with no clue of Joseph's whereabouts. Cristine heard some low voices, saw some shades moving around. She stopped and crouched through her knees and kept her eyes peeled for movement, knife ready as the other dug into the stone wall. She sucked in a great deal of oxygen when the lanky figure came close and she kicked him in the leg before slamming her full body on him and assaulted him from the shadows. The man tumbled down his back and Cristine drove her blade down only to stop inches from the veins near her neck when-

"It's me! It's me!"

Wide-eyed and out of breath, Cristine held Joe's collar tightly between her right hand, while the knife rested close near his neck. After registering that it wasn't the enemy, Cristine lifted her gaze at the unconscious man and relaxed. She panted before getting off of her comrade and tried catching her breath. "Sorry about that." Cristine apologized and winced when the pain shot through her ribs again and stroked the side of her torso. Joseph puffed out and waved at her with an air that was mixed with light irritation but understanding.

"We in the clear?" Joe rubbed his face against his shoulders and winced from the pain in his face. The asshole got him good, but luckily he was able to overpower the last one. He curiously looked at Cristine who gave his unconscious prisoner a harried glower and followed her line of sight.

"First one ambushed me like a coward before I put him down. The other became dinner for his friend." Pushing her lower lip into the surface of her teeth, debating silently, she got to her feet. Cristine corrected her posture and tugged at the handcuffs dangling at her belt as a chilling coldness settled within her narrowed gaze. As if she was deciding to murder this enemy who had it out for them or not and sighed, "help me cuff and gag this one. We're bringing him back for interrogation."  
  


-

James thundered down the stairs that lead one to the pantry. His heart thrummed inside his chest and his usually soft mien considerably creased from the entrenched frown on his face. Jeremiah knocked late at his door, while he, Dolores and Hailey were deep in slumber and informed him of to the nightly activity his eldest daughter had taken upon herself. Apparently someone was trying to frighten them with strange tactics and whilst his old friend didn't divulge many details as to what it was, he'd never seen Jeremiah this grim in his life. Not even when the five of them made a pact that night under the old adobe. James didn't know why he suddenly thought of what they did to protect their own, but the memory vanquished as soon as his eyes landed on his child. It never ceased to surprise him how much she'd grown, his influence there, but also not. A lot Cristine had done by herself and as regretful as James was now, he was proud of her. Even if she stood stiffly near the cuffed stranger with a burlap bag on the top of his head, eerily resembling a executioner ready to deliver a final blow. Veering his eyes, James spotted Jake shifting in his position with a terse face and another militia member he remembered by the name of Joseph. Narrowing his eyes, James turned halfway around to look at Jeremiah who gave him a knowing look.

Cristine regarded her father with eyes like polished onyx and swept her hand through her curls that hung limply on her shoulders, wincing from the pain shooting in her body while waiting for her father to speak. He didn't and instead his legs guided him to their unconscious prisoner and stared at the individual for a long while. Glancing at her father from the corner of her eyes, Cristine spoke, "they breached our safety perimeters. We didn't go with the intention to find them... we just did." Her father's downcast gaze never moved away from the covered man. "Whoever they are, they knew the terrain and where to be. They must have been watching us for a while."

"How many?" Jeremiah asked.

"Four, he's the only one left alive. They had guns, but nothing extreme."

"Why didn't you call it in? We don't go out unless scheduled, let alone with two. We have rules." Jeremiah chastising tone elicited a dismissive scoff from Cristine.

"With all due _respect_ Mr. Otto, I had better things to do. I didn't think you'd care." the young woman answered hotly and gave the man the side-eye as if he was the irrational one and not her. "And our walkies were busted so there wasn't any way of contacting home."

"Enough," James interrupted the petty back and forth when it seemed that Jeremiah wanted to rebuke his daughter, and mediated, "you did good Birdie, but next time follow the protocols."

"Got it," Cristine straightened her back after crossing her arms. Rubbing this in Jeremiah's face had no value, they were on the same side. And now they had this problem. "Do we interrogate him next? They were here with a clear message. If we know who we're dealing with-"

"I know who we're dealing with." James scratched his greying beard when he dropped that revelation and a heavy sigh left his mouth before looking over his shoulder at Jeremiah, who didn't so much bat an eye. This unspeakable tension was off, but their silent conversation didn't dwindle the curiosity of their children either. The old friends had varying expressions that just left a bad premonition clog up the atmosphere. James then corrected his stance and tapped the side of his leg as a chilling coldness settled within his narrowed gaze. As if he was deciding to carve a bullet in the man's head or not for something. Having never seen this type of shift in her father before and looking between the two men, Cristine cocked her brow in confusion. She tried to ask Jake with her gaze if he knew, but a light shake of his head showed he was as clueless as her.

"I've never seen my dad like that," Cristine and Jake stood together near the pantry stairs when Jeremiah and James asked for a moment to talk amongst themselves. Squeezing the sides of her arms repeatedly in a motion to calm her nerves, Cristine analyzed the almost passive aggressive way her father was talking with Jeremiah who seemed to be much calmer. They were clearly in a heated argument with each other. "I wonder who he is... your father seems familiar with him too- or at least who he belongs to." Their conversation were more than words. It was the body language. The hot and cold gestures in response. The old friends were both affected by this even whilst hushing.

"When that infected got put in your cabin," Jake began carefully, voice careful and thoughtful at the same time. As if he worked to puzzle together a grainy clue to what their fathers were discussing so vehemently. "James rightfully demanded an explanation and punishment... mine was... being my father," Jake furrowed his brows into a knit, his eyes got smaller with the tense motion, "he said to my dad that he owed him. I don't know what that meant, but it was cold... at that time it wasn't like their friendship of forty years. It sounded like a... businesses transaction."

"You think that has something to do with why they're sort of freaking out right now?" Cristine could only explain this behavior as some kind of event that happened before the apocalypse, way before she was born even. "They both seem to know who we're dealing with."

"Seems likely," Jake licked his lips and ogled his friend with a badly hidden concern. "You can't go out like that again Cristine," the accusation came from a good place and Cristine didn't have her excuse ready as to why she did go out like that. It wasn't like her to be that rash and thoughtless and with the guys out, she see feel threats needed to be dealt with. She learned her that from her past experiences. "I know my dad doesn't sugarcoat his words and can be-"

"An asshole," she grumbled, but shortly after apologized with a downcast glower. "I'm sorry, I just didn't want to leave it up to chance. It wasn't even about your father. We need to protect this place and with the crash site... and Charlie and now no word from Troy or the rest." Her voice got smaller and smaller with a shrug, "I just want us to be safe... even if I know nowhere really is and people like that remind me of it every time. People who want to take things."

Jake tipped his head down, trying to reconnect their eyes and when hers flickered up to his he showed Cristine a mile, "have a little faith. We'll deal with this like we did everything else so far." Jake exhaled and searched for that focused reason that walls always in the   
oman's gaze. "I just need you to promise you won't run off like that. I know you're smarter than that."

"I promise."  
  



	16. - Cristine & James

Cristine regarded her father carefully but didn't say a thing and instead rolled the tin can of coffee between her cupped palms. Now that they had a prisoner; one her father linked to who they were dealing with, she was at a loss for words. Not even a simple inquiry could leave her mouth because of the severe and sullen air that clung around her father like a second skin. It was like a new person sat across from her and Cristine took solace in the silence and her beverage.

"Any news from the search party?" He finally asked.

"No," she said. "They didn't call in. It's been fourteen hours since we last had contact."

James mindlessly fumbled with his cup and stared at its half empty contents. The emotions on his face were barely there, "I'm glad you stayed."

"..."

"We have to assume the worst has happened Birdie." Other than stating the obvious, her father felt and sounded extremely cold it prickled onto Cristine's skin like goosebumps. Other than not mincing his words, he had given her no answer to who they were dealing with.

"The stakes are much higher now. I know that- I just want to know what _you _don't want me to find out. I'm not going to look at you as if you're a monster."

"Even if it happened before the apocalypse? When there were rules and moral codes and lines you don't cross?" James saw Cristine reach out for his hand and squeezed it briefly.

"Do you regret it?"

"I don't know. I never thought about it. It wasn't that important for me to ever cross my mind. But now with this... I don't want you to look at me like how I looked at you. How I judged you for something that was _never_ and will _never_ be your fault." Disgust and an aversion to his hypocrisy was a good wake up call for James and squeezing back her smaller hands, he lowered his head between his shoulders as if a weight was dropped on them.

"Daddy," tugging at his hands, Cristine felt her eyes sting and scratched her throat. "I don't care about what you did. All I care about is you, Hailey, and even Dolores," she choked out in a breathless laugh, resonating with her father's pain more than she thought was possible. "To you, this might be some kind of twisted fate or retribution, but I don't believe that. I'm not losing you and you're not losing any of us, alright?" James his face changed, clearly surprised by his daughter's stance. Cristine had an inkling of his sins and his past where he lived a life with hate it wasn't healthy anymore. "I just want us to be safe." James nodded. He wanted that exact same thing when he made the decision to move to Broke Jaw Ranch. Not just to start over. Past sins to Cristine played a big factor in that, but the fact that she never detested him for his neglect left James with different sort of emptiness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short part, but next chapter is up :)


	17. - James -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content Warning: sensitive content

Inside the dank cabin, it was a world of its own. The building's only path a barren, with dead trees decorating the outside. Because of the way it was build, barely any sunlight shone inside even on the brightest of afternoons. It looked more like a secluded room. This was one of the older and worn cabins no one visited. Usually no one inhabited it, but not today. Today, the floors of this wood receive a brand new paint job. There is a wet, sticky quality to the ground, and the smell of piss, liquor and rot is commingled with an even stronger scent. The man tied uncomfortably to the chair had been waiting for hours now; a break from the beatings and torture. He was half-naked. His hands were behind back, secured with new rope that bit through his wrists, and his ankles were strapped to the legs of the chair.   
  


He's sitting there, refusing to show weakness  
  


He's been through the varying questions: "what's your name? Where is your camp? How many people are there? What does your tribe leader want from us? But he never broke in front of this savage man who was going to murder him anyway. Whether he spoke or not.   
  


James watched the pool of blood around the chair. Bodily fluids seep and flow like thick motor oil, and the metallic, sticky smell pierced his nostrils. With a brief sniff, he returned back to the single chair and small table illuminated by a weak oil lamp. His coat laid neatly folded on the chair's back when he sat down in his seat to rest. His movements were thought out and with purpose when he opened looked at the his prisoner.   
  


"I know you have a family to protect," James said softly and with his brows furrowed put forth the unspoken thoughts and musings he's had since his talk with Cristine. "But so do I. So I can make this as painless for you as possible in the end if you tell me what I want to know."  
  


"...I- I- gh- to hell." The man croaked, his throat severely scorched and burned from the his screams of agony he tried his hardest to hold it. He had no feeling left in his face or his body, it was cold and hot at the same time. While he wanted to be relieved from his misery once and for all, he wasn't going to beg this monster for anything.  
  


James intently stared at the battered man with the clearest gaze and scrutinized his physical state before tasting the metal from his upper dry lip when he ran his tongue to wet it. The state of the man was a reminder to the vile things he was capable of, a reminder of what had haunted him after the war before his first wife managed to wash so much of it away, not all, but it was his start for a new life.   
  


"You need to answer my questions first. This is a trade, remember?" James reminded, his voice soft and almost chastising a stubborn child, "you tell me what I want to know and I'll stop and give you a swift death."  
  


The long-haired man opened one of his swollen eyes, his red and blurred vision peered back at the white haired, pale man on the chair. If he'd pass this man before, he wouldn't have ever thought him capable of this torture. His callousness, those big and bright eyes that resembled a ghoul out for blood.  
  


"We'll feed all of you to the crows. The day will come that you will pay for your sins." A bile of mucous and blood rolled down his half open mouth. The air shifted and the man felt his heart drum calmly again inside his black and blue chest.  
  


"I know" James chuckled dryly yet cynically. Dark eyes darted to the tools in that slim corner of the open space. The tools that cut, ripped, burned, and twisted. He became familiar with most of those apparatus and their uses. He had hours to get to know them. His torturer made sure of that. "But I am prepared to face my past and Walker." James rose from his chair with renewed vigor. His lips drew back in a ghastly smile and the shadows of his face exaggerated. It looked as if the older man was possessed by something other. "You see, to protect my family, my little girls; I'll do anything."  
  
  
  


-  
  


Sleep didn't come for James, but he told Cristine to rest for a bit while he looked after things. He didn't want to burden his daughter with what was his business and responsibilities. Wiping his red hands with water from the bowl, James splashed some on his neck before wiping it dry. The light in his usual lively eyes dim from the cold severity that shrouded his being. Deciding to get some fresh air, James walked out the cabin door and blinked in surprise at the company.  
  


Jeremiah and Vernon.  
  


Pulling the door behind him closed, the wood underneath his shoes creaked as James stalked toward the two men. It was the crack of dawn, but from the severity of their expression, neither men ha slept it seemed.   
  


"Jeremiah told me," Vernon said in a heavy tune as he briefly flickered his eyes to the single entrance that led to the tormenting world James had made his own. He saw the faint splatters of blood on his friends neck, face and travelled his gaze to slightly bruised knuckle and it didn't leave much to the imagination as to what had occurred.  
  


"Did he talk?" Jeremiah asked, brown eyes peeled for any inkling that James was able to uncover intel that was worth them having an advantage. In the meantime, he fished out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from his pockets, sharing them with what was probably the last three standing Founding Fathers.   
  


"He screamed," James answered callously and took a deep breath from the unhealthy stick. He stared faraway, into the pinkish hue between the dark blue that signaled the sun was coming up and would be ablaze in a few hours. "He cursed. He laughed. And he cried. Walker's men are strong and disciplined, I'll give him that."   
  


An uncomfortable look crossed Vernon's features when he heard that dreadful name after forty plus years. His gut sank and he chewed on his lips after lowering his cigarette. "He's probably the reason why Phil hasn't called in."  
  


"Phil's dead." James his answer was so convincing it flabbergasted the two men.  
  


"Did he say that?" Jeremiah nodded at the cabin with their prisoner.  
  


A cynical smirk stretched on James his thin lips. "He didn't have to. Us sending out a search party was most likely part of Walker's plan. That's what I would do if I was in his place. Good way to win a few extra supplies. Some extra weapons and a vehicle or two."  
  


"My boy," Vernon muttered distraught thinking of Mike. The color drained from his face at the thought of ever seeing his only son again. There is a tight feel in his chest, builds up in his nerves and synapses and Vernon understood the fear was gaining on him. His breath was shallow and he found a way to release the tension. The more apprehensive he became, the clearer it became that the safety of himself and his family was slowly crumbling.  
  


"We don't know damn thing." Jeremiah tried to sound more hopeful when he noted that Vernon looked as if he was about to pass out. James his crazy and baseless talk were clearly putting them on edge and Jeremiah couldn't have that. "That asshole in there didn't share any valuable information either, so let's not come to any conclusions-"  
  


"They didn't call in Jeremiah!" Vernon spat and his anger and anxiety flared. "They'll come for us next and pick us apart one by one, all because of what the five of us did. Hell, Phil is gone, Russel shot himself to be with Martha two days ago! It's just a matter of time before Walker brings his bunch of savages down on us and scalps us all."  
  


"You need to calm down Vern," James flicked the ash from the end of his stick. "We're safe if we stay on the Ranch."  
  


"Safe!? They breached our safety perimeters. They left behind skulls with bullet holes inside them so we know that its Walker and that he's coming for us. The others have a right to know-"  
  


"You're out of line Vern-" Jeremiah cut in.  
  


"-like hell Jeremiah! Violence begets violence and now we're being punished for it."  
  


"You'll leave at the first sign of trouble? Leave at simple speculation." Jeremiah couldn't believe his ears.   
  


"I have a family to think about." Vernon glared at Jeremiah with a half made up mind. He would give it a few days and wait for his son Mike, but all of this changed everything. The Ranch wasn't safe anymore.  
  


"We all do." James stepped in between his friends with and reached for Vernon's shoulder and squeezed it. "But leaving now, risking Kathy and Gretchen's safety isn't the answer. They can't fight and have never killed. We're Founding Fathers and like it or not, but people look up to us. The three of us need to be a united front Vernon."   
  


"That's easy for you to say, your child isn't out in the wild," Vernon hissed and wanted to jerk his body to throw off the hand clamped around his shoulder, but was unable.  
  


"Vernon please." James pressed his fingers into his friends skin and didn't relax his grip. Not even when Vernon's face twitched in clear discomfort. "There is no place better than here. Now, go back to your RV. Lay down next to your wife and think about her and Gretchen. Think about all the possible ways they can die outside." Vernon held his breath in alternating his gaze between the fixed gaze and his mouth to register the words that spilled from James his lips. "Think about how much higher the stakes are. Starvation. Dehydration. Eaten live. Pillaged. Raped. Tortured." His stare made the top of Vernon's head tingle. It felt as if he looked at the man who could so easily step away from all his emotions. Like when James first came back from the war. Like when James helped bury corpses underneath the old adobe house where Russel's house was now burned down. "Then think of all the possible ways they can live safely behind our walls. Protected by a militia. Well-fed and away from the living and dead monsters outside." The cold expression faltered, but there was this standoffish and odd ambience surrounding James. Vernon couldn't really explain it, but inside his friend's gaze lurked an intent that made his heart pound. 


	18. Chapter 18

Hailey perused near the gate, checking the distance for a sign of Mike and their vehicles. She rubbed the end of her long-sleeved shirt against the tip of her nose and flushed cheeks. The sun already hung high in the air, the Ranch was bustling with life and breakfast was long gone. She was worried and it showed in her face and the antsy back and forth pacing. She asked Cristine for information, but her sister knew as much as she; which was practically nothing. She rather have the loud rumbling of the engine than this silence, this forever lasting peace just riled her up more than necessary. Unfortunately, that wish didn't come true and Hailey sniffed and crossed her arms together anxiously when Cristine stepped in line next to her. 

"You'll get a heatstroke." Cristine pushed a cap into her face from the side, looking into the distance. After that, Cristine corrects her own protection from the sun. She breaths out a low, thoughtful tune before drumming her fingers against the wooden log that pulled the barbed wire taut.

"Daddy doesn't think they'll make it back," Hailey said softly, gaze plastered on the horizon line. 

"He said that to you?" Cristine moved her neck, a faint frown tightening her expression even more. Her father had said the same thing to her, yes, but to be this blunt with Hailey wasn't like him. He usually shielded her from it all. Coddled her. Now that Cristine thought about it, this sudden change in their father's behavior happened ever since he confessed to her that this was his past haunting him. 

"Not in those exact words. I think he doesn't want me to worry about Mike, but the way he said it hurt." Hailey's downcast vision was pulled by the slanted hills and their dark green bushes. Rolling her stiff shoulders back and forth, she pushed her chest out when correcting her posture and deeply inhaled and exhaled. "Also, daddy just came in at dawn. I think- I think he's been starting to drink again. He and mom argued about it."

Sucking in her breath, Cristine forced her disgust down and clenched and unclenched her hands. The last thing she wanted Hailey to ever witness was their father's greatest weakness. Cristine was convinced with him opening up to her like that meant something changed, but it was just another disappointment. Cristine should've been used to it. Should have expected him to reach for that bottle again, but she still had hope that this time it would be different. It wasn't and she rubbed at the dent between her brow. 

At her sister's uncanny silence, Hailey unabashedly met with focused dark eyes of her sister and wanted to ask her how long she thought this feel of waiting in this unknown pit would last. She watched the expression on Cristine's face switch from tensed to surprised when before she made a run for the gates and yelled at the guards, "open the gates!" It still had to register to Hailey what happened, but when she did, her eyes widened. Her hear thundered up her throat when she saw the limping sextet under the beating sun; when she saw Mike!   
  
  


-

"They're all dead!" Mike proclaimed, fully ignoring Troy's feigned exclamation to mask this mission as nothing but an utter and complete failure. Their people were slaughtered and here Troy was more concerned about not trying to spook the people when they had a right to know what their fate would entail if they didn't lea e the Ranch. They could best decide that for themselves and their families instead of living in a lie. Mike refused to listen to his best friend who whispered under his breath to keep lock his shit down.

"They're dead!" He repeated before glaring into Troy's stormy eyes and ignored him. "If we don't leave, we'll die! Just like Phil and the rest! They'll butcher us like the others!" The dreadful message came as a shock to the Survivalists and logically it started a sequence of buzzing words and claims of fear. The ambience of the people swirled and aside from a handful of strong-willed individuals, the uniform courage was nowhere to be found. 

Supporting Blake, Cristine bit her lower lip as the severity of Mike his claims trickled. Blinking, she was surprised to see her father slither between the crowd, leaving a ghastly looking Dolores between the faces. His stride was filled with purpose when he stood next to Jeremiah and said something only the two could understand. She couldn't make it out, but the slightly surprised expression of Otto doubling down into a relaxed one and her father's terse behavior prickled her curiosity. Jeremiah nodded a few times in response to whatever was shared with him. To her surprise, her father took a step forward and his clear voice reverberated through the hot air to address the people.

"I want everyone to calm down," James raised his arms with demonstration as he stepped in the center of the space. "The circumstances are dire, but we have an advantage. We know who we're dealing." James let the words dawn by pausing and increased the volume of his voice and said, "also, eight hours ago the enemy scout who we know now belongs to the Nation attempted to break through our perimeters. Fortunately, our militia responded just like we trained them to and we managed to deal with them accordingly." 

"What is your dad talking about?" Blake asked Cristine under his breath, fighting back the clench of pain when shifting. She made sure he used her as support to alleviate his pain, but Blake pressed on with tension in his body. "Cristine, what the hell happened?" Clearly confused, Blake looked back and forth between her and James addressing them. Seemed as if those damn Indians had it out for them here too with their spies. 

"Not now Blake," whispering back, Cristine shook her head and carefully watched her father as he absently rubbed his knuckles so now and then. The motion was far from innocent and she wouldn't have thought much of it if not for the fact that she remembered him insisting she sleep and put two and two together. Cristine licked her lower lip, not missing the omitted part of her father's story; that person was in fact still here... unless her father had killed him.

"We will deal with the enemy accordingly. Like Jeremiah said at our last service, our goal hasn't changed and we will act accordingly." The murmuring between the people was present, but not as buzzing and anxious. They took some strength out of his words that promised payback. James looked at Vernon, who narrowed his gaze unconvinced, but his words at least seemed to have placated him for now. If what James said was true, perhaps they did have a chance to fight against the Nation. "Before that, we honor one of our Founding Fathers', Phil McCarthy. Honor the men and women who _died_ so we could live. Died for our home. Not doing so would be a disservice for what we stand for."  
  
  


-

"I knew my gut feeling was right," Blake said after swallowing a mouth full of water from his canteen and sucked in a sharp breath when Cristine non too gently ripped the dirty cloth from his bloody, ripped and blistered feet. A focused glower was his second response by her lack of delicacy, but the woman didn't seem to care and examined his soles and grimaced.

He, Jimmy and Coop were all together in the infirmary while Cristine and two other medics tended to them. 

"Too bad it didn't do jack shit when we walked right into that ambush," Cooper clenched his teeth when one of the infirmary medics began to clean his feet. "Damn Indians left Phil out like some animal-"

"No talk about any of that in here," Cristine cut him short and shot a pointed glare the man's way. Cooper paused and it looked like he wanted to retort, but realization trickled inside his eyes and narrowed at the two other medical practitioners who seemed rather pale and antsy. Blabbing stuff out like Mike back there instigated the mood in their camp and Cristine rather not the few capable hands in here run. That's the immediate ambiance she go after her father's speech. The people were scared of uncertainty and an enemy lurking at their doorstep. But the last thing they needed was for people to run. They shared everything; food, medical supplies and more. If people cut bait and left, this Ranch would be nothing much and this Nation wouldn't even have to fight them to take over the Ranch.

Cooper nodded. After a few seconds his beard twitched from the little smirk flourishing on his face. "Joe said you two went after their scouts and brought one back. Those cowardly bastards were probably watching us for a while."

"Coop, shut up." Cristine grumbled and walked to one of the cots to look for more bandages. The sound of the infirmary tent flapping open sounded and she was surprised to see her father. Cristine's shoulders hunched up stiffly when her father gave her a scrutinizing look. 

"Is everything okay daddy?" His blue irises flicked between her and the rest again, but after seeing his daughter's badly masked concern James nodded while smiling.

"I just wanted to checking up on you boys," the baritone voice addresses the young men with the feel of a father emphasizing his non verbal pride for their services. "It's good to see all of you well."

The words would have had more effect if it wasn't for everything that happened. The three didn't say anything at first, but it was Blake who gritted his teeth and vocalized their feelings, "we're sorry Mr. Gerrard. We failed the mission. Failed everyone here."

"You couldn't have known this was Walker or his band. What they did to our people... they'll pay for it. We have the gun- and man power to defend ourselves. If they really wanted the Ranch so badly, they'd have already attacked us and they didn't. It just shows those savages thrive on fear and atrocities to take and steal what isn't there." The slight drawl in James's voice as he shook his head was assuring and his assessment belied the keen understanding of the fighting embers the militia contained. His words and promise resonated with and he was glad they had more fight in them than before. "You boys need to rest and preserve your strength." The words tempered their impatient minds and patting Blake on the shoulder James nodded. Feeling a stare on him, James looked over his shoulder. Cristine her dark inconspicuous irises were dimmed. Dimmed like a stranger looking at another stranger and for the first time the present smile that pulled his lips faltered. Alternating the brush of his palms and fingers over the back of his bruised knuckles James scratched his throat, "Cristine, can I talk to you?" Keeping his voice steady, James silently signaled her to follow him away from prying eyes.

When they stood outside the tent, James asked, "how have you been Birdie?"

A heavy sigh escaped with her answer, "other than fixing some bruised ego's that comes with the treatment-"

"No. I mean how are _you_ holding on?" Cristine pushed the first-aid kit inside his hands. With a light tilt of her head, she tried her best to shake off the worry in her father's curious eyes.

"I'm fine daddy, really. I'm just glad you said all of that back at the gates. They needed to hear it. It was the right call and- we can't have people leave because or it will be easy pickings." James planted a hand on her shoulders, which broke her focus from dwindling into negative thoughts.

"I don't want you to worry about that. I already talked to Jeremiah and Vernon... The three of us need to be a united front as the Founding Fathers or else this place will fall. Also, I want you to focus on the infirmary from now on... you don't need to take guard duties, especially outside." He looked down at his daughter, making sense of the words and cutting her protest off before it tumbled from her lips, "there will be casualties... you're our medic with the most experience. The Ranch can't risk something happening to you. And I won't put you out there Birdie. Please don't be stubborn and listen to me." 

Sucking in her counter arguments Cristine sighed. It was because her father made too much sense that she couldn't refute him. What good was it if she _died_ out there just because she wanted to fight these assholes so very badly? Moving her jaw back and forth, Cristine lowered her gaze between their feet and eventually nodded. "That's the most logical thing to do," she agreed begrudgingly and the grip on her shoulder relaxed after raising her head. The truth was, her father's change left her discombobulated and confused. Never had she seen him like this. The usual tender and softness was still there, but it was so very cold and calculated with all that happened these few hours.

"I knew you'd understand. You've always been the strong one Birdie. Even without me and I should've helped you with that... protected you and-" James choked on his words and his eyes reddened. 

"You did," Cristine whispered and her lashes began to flutter quickly. Her neglectful father and abusive stepmother were in fact the ones who gave form to the way she was now. The world outside of her household just confirmed her experiences and this apocalypse cemented it. Cristine sniffed and pressed herself against James to give him a hug. Their fractured family dynamics would never fully heal, but she was glad her father finally _looked_ at her like he did Hailey. _Looked_ at her like she mattered and her senses heightened when she pressed her face into the scruff of his coat. The pine scented soap tingled her nose and Cristine smiled when the stench of alcohol was nowhere to be found. She smiled cause Hailey's suspicions were faulty and Cristine tightened her arms around his torso even more. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	19. Chapter 19

There was a calmness to cleaning the infirmary. Smoothing the clean sheets over the empty beds. Discarding all of the waste and reorganizing all the supplies inside the cabin, everything felt lighter and brighter inside. After discharging the boys, Cristine occupied her mind with her usual shift after a treatment in her working space with purpose. The infirmary was her domain, a place she spent the majority of her time here. Now that she made a promise and thought some more about it, Cristine begrudgingly admitted that her father was right about needing her back home. Their new community member, Alicia Clark, was a nurse in training before and Cristine thought of asking if she was interested to help around here. Perhaps the girl would like to help. After several minutes, Cristine slunk down on the foldable chair and started her routine of checking the list of foraged medicine stock and equipment.   
  


Time went by quickly as Cristine turfed the supply and focused on the stock. Distracted by the list, Cristine hardly spared a glance at the figure that stood at the entrance. It wasn't until she heard the hard scrapes of boots that she looked up to see the man standing near the entrance, half cocked and with a tense air radiating from around him in waves. Cristine pen hovered above the checklist and a slight arch of her brow at the prolonged silence from his side. He hadn't really cleaned and looked worse for wear even now that he changed into his usual casual attire. Cristine kept staring at Troy. Whatever put him in this mood, it didn't look like it was just because of the failure of his recent mission. Pressing her lips together, she put up her guard, not really in the mood or looking forward to Troy's antics. While he managed to push most of it down, the irritation locked his tense jaw and knitted brows that left a deep dent between the skin could be spotted from a mile away. Seeing him roll his palms against the front of his pants, Troy opened his mouth, voice steady, "I heard about the surprise guest you and Joe brought back." Troy tapped his finger against the edge of his mouth, pointing at the bruising near the corner of her mouth from her own scuffle. "Seems it was quite the fight."  
  


"We handled it," Cristine didn't wait for him to get to the point and put her writing block on the top of the small table. The man scoffed and scurried towards the near display Cristine organized. She glowered when he fished one of the medicine bottles, shaking it so he could assess the volume. He did that with a few more until Cristine her patience ran thin. "After Joe and me brought the only living one back my father kept watch the rest of the night," she clarified during his feigned nonchalance and was messing up the order of the medicine bottles, still listening to the information.   
  


"What did James say about the prisoner? My dad is pretty tight-lipped about it." Troy slightly leaned back and lowered his tune, "sounds to me that whatever information they have it's valuable." Troy absently fished out another bottle, but this time Cristine stopped him by swiping it from his hand, shoved him aside, and put it back with the rest. The brunette his prodding eyes intrusive, heavy on her face. As understandably pissed and impatient as Troy was, what use was it to vent it on her?  
  


"He didn't say and what does it matter? Sounds to me that Walker is determined to end us."   
  


"It matters cause that asshole and his people were keeping tabs on us for who knows how long. It matters cause people were slacking and it got at least eight of ours killed," feeling him lean that bit closer, Cristine responded. She swiveled to face him. His rough tone revealed the extent of his exasperation with the situation and she was receiving the brunt of it.  
  


Cristine folded her arms over her chest to put some type of barrier between them. "If you think you're the only one mad you're wrong. What use is venting it on me going to do? I don't care if you're pissed with Mike, your family, or the Nation, I'm on your side Troy. We all are." Cristine reminded him, hands up in exasperation.   
  


There was a minimal response to her claims and Troy sighed, hand on his hip, "listen, just because we're not attacking doesn't mean I'm gonna sit on my ass and wait for them to slaughter us."   
  


"You can barely walk." Cristine was not impressed by his vigor or his hardheadedness to 'finish the job'. She joked about the guys and their bruised egos, but Troy's self-pride was on a different level. This wasn't personal. This was about the Ranch and keeping it safe the smart and strategic way. "It's like you forgot what I told you. You're not stupid. So don't act like it. There was no way any of us could have known Troy. It's not your fault this happened." It seemed like Troy wanted to respond, but after registering what she said, the fierce embers of violence within his irises slowly dwindled. He latched onto her words and calmed down. By his slightly downtrodden expression, it was apparent this ran deeper than Troy wanting to go out and fight. Cristine knew the Otto's had their complicated family dynamics. She talked to Jake often enough to receive a glimpse of the family's resentment between sibling and parent. Maybe it was because of the two eldest Otto members their indifference towards Troy was the reason he was standing in the infirmary having a tantrum.  
  


"This place is all we have." Troy looked away, voice low and reserved. "Now some assholes want to claim it as theirs."  
  


"Well." Shrugging, Cristine pulled up her shoulders up and followed his line of sight. "We always knew that's the type of people we would be dealing with. Now we'll know if we're really ready for it or not."  
  


It was quiet for a bit and tapping his finger on his hip, Troy said, "heard you're responsible for the infirmary." Puzzled, Troy glanced at Cristine and swallowed. He remembered asking her the same thing when Martha died a few days ago. Cristine refused it. The second time, Troy offered her his help and she accepted it. "Good call. We sure as hell need it up and running at a decent capacity again." Cristine was resourceful and could be a great asset to his militia, yes, but her knowledge and experience in the medical field was more important. "Also, Blake was right. You looked like shit. Focusing on one thing is better."  
  


If Cristine could roll her eyes all the way to the back of her skull she would. The way she was so easily riled up elicited a humorous scoff from Troy when she pointed at the cot. "You look like shit with that limp. Now sit down and let me treat your feet. That's what you came here for right?"  
  


As Cristine tended to his feet, Troy relaxed and put what she said in retrospective. It was peculiar Cristine was able to calm him down. She wasn't even there and should be one of the people afraid. Troy was still riled up by Mike's little stunt and jeered at the very personal implications it brought him. He had enough common sense to tone it down in the woman's presence and did his best to stay still as she focused on his treatment. "Since Walker didn't kill you guys, it means the odds are still in our favor. If it took him this long to come after the Ranch, it means they're desperate or don't have the weapons to take us on. It's probably both, which means choices will have to be made."   
  


While silent, Troy silently agreed with Cristine's keen observation. He fumbled with some bandages between his palms and his gaze darkened. He exhaled, "I know. The only thing I'm annoyed at are the ones acting like cowards. It's not as if this is the first group we came across."  
  


"It's different," Cristine interjected and there was a brief moment of eye contact. Focus went back on the foot injury and Troy's brows scrunched up with light confusion. "We never faced Ben's group. The walkie-talkie was a good advantage so we knew what they were doing. But they never headed our way and the lines went dead after a while. We had time to recruit more people for the militia, but we never had to fight or were really at a disadvantage like now." Her explanation was crisp and rang true to his ears, but Troy didn't understand what was so different from before and now. They were still dealing with enemies. "We won in a sense. With no casualties. In what universe does that happen? I'm not saying not to relish in our wins, but it's made us-"  
  


"Overconfident? Nah, I don't buy that. We got stronger so don't downplay it. Building the militia was us not taking any risks or leaving it to chance. We're organized now and have a clear chain of command." Troy shook his head in dismay and rolled his tongue over his teeth, irked she'd even say they were able to do all of this because of luck. He pointed at the bruise near her mouth and said mockingly, "I call you still here luck, but not what we did preparing our people."  
  


Cristine popped a few of the bad blisters with a needled and let the fluids drain by themselves, unmoved by his comments. "I don't care what you call it. I care about what they did. Walker could've killed you guys too and it'd be chaos back here. I'm just saying we got a wake up call."  
  


"We're complacent by holding off our retaliation in my opinion," Troy sounded irritated again. This wasn't a democracy. These were his men; his team to lead. That's why he was the one in charge. Not even his father could come in between of that. Hell, Big Otto didn't really give a shit about him so Troy was better off doing what he was good at. Lead, protect, and serve.   
  


"You and the others need to rest," Cristine stated.   
  


Silence.  
  


Cristine didn't press with it anymore. She wasn't afraid of Troy. Sure, he was a volatile and temperamental asshole that lashed. Either verbally or physically - the potential for violence in Troy more imminent now than ever - but Cristine never cared for that. She stayed on guard around him. In spite of their little bonding moments among the dead. Despite them being friend. Maybe it was because they'd become friends that she could set the boundaries between them a bit better.   
  


"Its a good thing Charlie helped you hide those extra supplies when you did. It helped us. Thinking back, I think all of this is for the better." Glossy eyes flickered Troy. Something within him shifted like a seismic plate changing with the landscape. Troy molded the flexible gauze between his slender fingers. The thoughtfulness on his face increased. As calm as he looked from the outside, Troy clearly wanted to slit someone's- anyone's throat open, but inhaled to pull the leash that kept that _thing_ inside of him taut. Cristine was quiet as it all happened. Troy made no attempt to hide his lethal nature in front of her and it disconcerted her. Her nails dug into her palms as she watched his uncanny silence. Not masking the fact he could quickly turn lethal.  
  


The shift in the air was heavy after Troy's stupor broke and he finished calmly, "like you said; Walker could have scalped us and that would be the end for everyone." The words said weren't said out of concern for the Ranch. Cristine didn't fully believe them to be the whole truth. No- the way Troy said it was as if he just now realized he'd miss his chance to fight the best battle of his young life and nothing more. Troy almost regretted his confession, but steeled his gaze when Cristine glowered back. She was one of the few who understood his... motivations. Ever since Ben, she saw his quiet and dark temper grow, born of a visceral reaction to chaos.  
  


It was good to have Madison around. Troy missed the games he and Cristine played; using truths and lies interchangeably to achieve their goals. He wondered how she would react if he told her he held a knife against the woman's throat during their mission for undermining him. It was on a whim. Madison looked at him with disappointment and whispered he was better than this and it made Troy hesitate. She thought him better than just hurting people and saw something more in him. Troy didn't know what it was and why she said that. Or if she even meant it. At that time, Troy wasn't in the driver's seat of his body. He just knew he wasn't going to let Madison's disrespect slide. To hell with reason, logic or patience then, he just wanted to kill her for reminding him of that weak little boy. Taunting him like he was some child and thinking she could use that against him.  
  


Troy was zoning out until the dark suspicious eyes narrowed. Troy showed Cristine an innocent smile. He saw her muscles relax one by one and huffed at his pretense when handing her the bandages to wrap around his feet. Her eyes were focused on his soles again and Troy changed the subject to some he felt needed to be addressed, "I get why you left the Ranch, but coming back was the right call." He saw her frown just a bit, but quickly saw her push the discomfort back.  
  


"If it wasn't for Jake and my dad stopping me that day I would've ended up like McCarthy." Cristine's eyes dared to gaze up at him. "What you said at the sentry tower made me angry at first," her tone was hushed when thinking back at Troy's confrontation and his swift offer to trust him. Cristine tilted her head as he remembered what happened so quickly after Troy his offer. When there were no hidden agendas or them playing their cat and mouse game, it was easier for her to look and talk with Troy. "I knew you were right and what you said is part of why I'm staying staying after all this is over... for good this time." 

Cristine finished wrapping his feet and patted them lightly before raising her head. It was as if the invisible weight of her stare pulled at his eyes and held them pinned. Troy felt like he was looking into an endless stretch of the midnight sky. Flickers of thoughts flew by on her face and disappeared faster than he could decipher. A faint frown swept over her face at the genuinely off-guard expression. "Don't make this weird, I'm just saying it's good you said what you said to me back then."  
  


Troy snorted in a weak chuckle and lazily pulled his legs back in before swinging them over the bed. His previous agitation diminished a significant amount. Troy got up from the cot. Cristine mirrored his actions. His feet burned like hell, but at least it got tended. He saw curiosity in her stare when looking at his healing right eye. The emotion slowly dissolved and Cristine pressed her arms under her chest, clearly tired by today's events.

"I uh- thanks... for the intel and the bandages you can spare." It was funny to see her eyes roll at his attempt to squeeze out civilized words of gratitude. Funny he still had such an effect on her even if their dynamics weren't as hostile. Troy liked this way of interacting a lot better then their countless arguing. Well, it was still amusing to see her all riled up cause that meant his presence was strong enough to elicit a reaction. Cristine's dark eyes didn't stray. As if removing her gaze from his would be admitting defeat and for the first time, Troy let her have this round. Not because he wasn't in the mood to accept the challenge, but because her piercing stare felt unnaturally heavy.   
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	20. Chapter 20

The unapologetically loud and impatient punches against her door made Cristine jump from her bed. Her dark locks wildly bounced around her face, eyes wide. The first thing her hand grabbed was the knife under her pillow. The sleep still had her brain and eyes in its grasp, but with a quick jerk Cristine marched into the door and pulled it open. Her brows furrowed in confusion, coming face to face with an out of breath Troy. A faint coat of sweat glistened in his slightly flushed face and his hair looked as messy as hers. "Troy? What is it?" Cristine asked frantically stepping outside. In the span of seconds, Troy pushed the steel of a gun inside her palm and enveloped his hand around hers when he felt her tug the revolver back.

"What?" Cristine her mouth twitched downwards at the force of his grip. It was clear something had happened.

"Go to the infirmary and be ready." His voice was terse and it was just then that Cristine her eyes stretched from the orange glow behind his frame. Ignoring the burning tingle around her fingers she gaped at the several fires. They were too small to be bonfires and too big to be campfires. The firm squeeze around her hand moved to her upper arm and the crisp order elicited a sharp breath from the woman. "Now, Cristine." There was a dark haze when looking into those blue eyes. Most of his attention gauging her response when he saw Cristine's face slacken into an indifferent mask of icy focus.

Troy rather she stay here to deal with possible casualties. But her eyes said otherwise and feeling the need to repeat himself, the soft words made him pause when he reopened his mouth. "I'll keep an eye out for things here. Be safe when you go out." A bout of surprise flicked past Troy's face. Her vulnerable declaration briefly messing with his senses. For a minuscule second - a heavy wave punched through his gut and his hand slid down the length of Cristine's arm. The end of his fingertips twitched the moment he ended the touch. Slowly relaxing, the end of Troy's chin tipped down in understanding.  
  


-

Time passed. The militia went out to inspect the spread of fires surrounding the Ranch. The rest stayed inside with their guns close by. There weren't any casualties Cristine needed to tend to as of yet. But fear cemented in the people. The mothers were huddled inside the infirmary tent with their children and Cristine did her best to alleviate their concerns and terrors by talking. A handful she'd given anxiety pills, but that was the extent of her treatment. Tapping her fingers against her gun holster, Cristine stepped out the cover of the infirmary tent into the glow of ambers in the distance roaring on the hills like threatening columns that could collapse. Only, the fires stiffly prevailed in the exact same spot as they started hours ago. Not spreading an inch. Occasionally, the cluster of white flashlights that belonged to the militia flickered wildly in the dark to search for the culprits.

Rubbing her arms, the midnight chill sunk through her jacket. Cristine tried following the dull, pale light through the shadows as best she could. From the distance she spotted her father and Madison Clark conversing. Whatever the subject, her father languid body language was the complete opposite of the mother's stiff one. He occasionally shook his head, perhaps disagreeing or trying to appease Madison. Rubbing her thumb against the bridge of her nose, Cristine was too distracted with the man-made fires to care. Her head throbbed, body ached and senses tingled with the icy dread prickling her nerves. She wanted to jump into action from the adrenaline that pulled taut at her skin, but Cristine knew she couldn't afford to go out. She felt _useless._

This tactic threw the whole Ranch in disarray; families were huddled together. Through all the ado their armed militia double checked all weak and blind spots at the fences. The closest fire was yards from where the rebuild adobe stood, which was both surprising and infuriating given that it was a just behind the fences from where patrol happened. Even an amateur should have spotted it. Cristine couldn't help but stare and watching the flames jolted something within her. Digging her nails deeper into the fabric covering her arms, the pain somehow cleared up her mind. The pull of her mouth clenched and slackened while staring at the never-ending fires.

"-tine? Cristine!" Shaken from her thoughts, she turned in the direction of the person practically yelling her name. Blinking, the ashen face of her little sister jerked her into action. Her feet moved on autopilot and Cristine went to Hailey, the bizarre feel in her gut unwinding after pulling her smaller frame into a hug.

"Are we under attack?" Was the first thing her anxious sister asked. Her hands wrung the fabric of her shirt as the hugged. Distracted, her wide eyes darted over the fires one by one.

"I'm not sure," Cristine bit her lips and checked Hailey's flushed face for any wounds. She was really spooked and anxious. "If we were they'd already try to get inside. Most of our militia went out to check on the fires. They're trying to scare us..." Cristine couldn't help but avoid the wide eyes looking to her for the answer when she was as clueless as the rest.

"Well," Hailey squeezed out anxiously, "it's working. What're we going to do? Are we still safe here?" Repeating the words of her mother back inside their cabin, Hailey looked to her sister for knowledge with eyes like a frightened doe. Cristine slid her hands down her arms to link their hands together.

"I won't let anything happen to you. We'll be fine, this is a bluff to make us leave. Remember what daddy said at the service; together we're stronger and that's how we'll beat this. Them." She couldn't blame Hailey for looking unconvinced after her reassurance. Chewing on the inside of her cheeks, Cristine tried to steer the conversation to a subject less severe. "How's Mike doing?"

"He's still freaked out. We haven't talked and I- I think he's avoiding me," Hailey said with downcast eyes and her lids fluttered over her eyeballs. "I've never seen him like that." Her voice wavered, thinking about her boyfriend avoiding her. Hailey couldn't really handle that type of behavior and the two ended up arguing. Well, she did most of the arguing since Mike couldn't even be bothered to argue back. He was scared and that made Hailey scared too.

"He'll come around." Cristine wasn't sure if she was trying to convince Hailey or herself of that fact and exhaled. Rubbing her fingers over the back of her sister's knuckles, Cristine didn't say anything else. She didn't know what else to say or do, but be with Hailey as a silent support.

The fires burned out a few hours after the sun slowly climbed up from the horizon. With the new day the same people that were once so united after the memorial service of their comrades were now spooked and ready to run.   
  


-

Cristine only had a few naps in between. She was too tired and frazzled to rest. It was as if the Ranch she once knew had changed. She watched as the same face went in and out of the pantry with sacks of flour, buckets of food, water and other supplies they put in. Her father was placating the ones that hesitated to do the same and from the shadows under his eyes this was an all-nighter for him as well. She could occasionally hear him urge the people to rethink their decisions. Some listened. Others didn't.

Whoever this Walker was, he was slowly reaching his goal. Without really making any real casualties for his side. Frightening the people that didn't know how to fight, let alone survive out there. They rather take the risk of leaving for a cold, cruel and merciless world with dead and living. It wouldn't be safer or better outside, they didn't know a damn thing about surviving. Self-preservation, yes, but they couldn't do what the militia did for them on a daily basis. The people, the _sheep_ were too weak for that. None of them would survive more than a day out there.

Cristine walked around with no clear direction and bumped into Nick. The last time she'd properly talked to the young man was when she treated Luciana. His girlfriend left two nights ago and, to her confusion Nick was rather indifferent about, at least from the outside looking in. "Hey, how've you been?" Cristine asked.

Nick sized her up and down for a bit and his dark brown eyes mapped the lines of exhaustion on her face. He had his hoodie up and seemed to be in a hurry. "I'm doing better than most of us around her." He visibly shrugged, hands in his pockets.

"I heard about Luciana," Cristine would have liked to get to know the woman better. Luciana her judgement hit a sore spot for Cristine and it showed how very different they were as people. Even so, Cristine bonded with Nick's girlfriend and it was a shame she left.

"Yeah. I think in the end she felt the monsters in here were more dangerous than out there." Nick looked at the dirt space between them, finding more interesting than to have to stare at the frail eyes who poked and prodded at the outside layers of his psyche.

"I don't blame her. I just hope she gets to the place she wants to."

Silence.

"Anyway," Cristine moved her cap on top of her head and decided to change the subject. "I heard you're rebuilding the adobe house? How's it going?"

Glad to be able to talk about something else, Nick was a lot more eager to speak. "Pretty good. I was actually heading to get some material. Jeremiah's offered to help with the last few things. But it's nice to have some distraction and I can say something here is mine... never thought I'd ever build my own house."

Cristine most definitely agreed with that. "I think most of us would have never thought of doing the things we do now. Funny how that works. All the things you wanted to do. All the things planned mostly useless... at least for me."

Nick heard the softening of her tune and with it the forlorn look. Scratching his throat, he wanted to say something positive, but given that he couldn't relate with Cristine's outlook on her probably perfectly planned future, goals, and aspirations it was hard to find the right words. Nick never had that. Not like Cristine or Alicia or his mother. He was aimlessly living with no direction where life was going to take him. This apocalypse was just another trip to him and bit by bit, people were catching up in his world and learning to make something out of this new life.

"Well you're a doctor. Sounds to me you hit the jackpot." Nick couldn't see what was so bad about Cristine's occupation in these apocalyptic times. Doctors were very hard to come by and every community would be wise to cherish anyone with medical experience. Even former volunteer nurses such as Alicia.

"A lot I know now is from when all of this started." Cristine paused and her gaze unconsciously flicked to the familiar faces carrying their supplies to their vehicles and Nick followed her concerned eyes. His mother told him and Alicia of the Nation and their leader, Walker. The scare tactics were affecting the easily frightened ones. Their mother wanted this place to be their new home. With Luciana gone, Nick would make it his home too. He already had this weird mentor-student like relationship with Jeremiah, Alicia and Jake had something going on, and his mother was keeping Troy's attention on her. It was weird the influence their family had on the Otto's so quickly.

Nick liked Cristine. While most of that likeability had to do with her helping them without expecting anything in return and standing up against Troy for Lucy, Nick was fascinated with how Cristine moved around the Ranch. The woman was well-liked despite being pretty standoffish and very direct with her words. But seeing how concerned she was now showed a soft side like the doctor that took care of Luciana and alleviated his concerns and gave him advice. She had a big heart. 

-

Troy was pissed. His father was drinking again. Clearly hungover from the day before. Troy felt disgusted. He could smell the alcohol from miles. The way big Otto's mood plummeted and flared in bouts when Troy asked why he'd allow people to take shit from the pantry. After all their family did to take these sheep in. To protect them. This was the gratitude they got in return? The ones who left didn't deserve this place. He just had to hear from his god aunt, Mrs. Daley they were taking what they put in with them and leaving. His father didn't care, just let them, and left Troy with resentment for the rest of the day.

Troy his gait was angry and he needed to vent. To do something. Needed to get his mind off of things and his gaze was drawn to Nick and Cristine conversing. Tightening his jaw, Troy's body moved before his mind registered four puzzled eyes on him. They stopped talking and Troy arched his brow. Staring at Nick, who he hadn't seen in a while out of the blue he asked, "you flying solo?"

Nick his brows scrunched up, confused for a split second. "Luciana," when Troy said his girlfriend's name the emotions chilled on Nick's face. Troy watched his body tense, mouth twitch down and the quick switch of his disposition was interesting to see. A split second from relaxed to stiff showed the effect his question had on Nick. It left Troy oddly pleased. "She take off?" He clarified. Troy didn't care about Luciana, it was good riddance. She wasn't around to use their supplies anymore.

"Do me a favor," Nick stepped forward just that little bit with a different sort of intonation behind his sentence. A clear cut dare that sounded like a threat. "Say her name again." Troy looked at their one spectator, Cristine, and smirked as if he heard something funny before looking back at Nick.

"Whoa, whoa, easy, easy partner," Troy brgan in a pacifying tone. His eyes never strayed away from Nick's heated ones. "It's just good you didn't take off after her is all I'm saying. Okay?" Troy shrugged. "I tried my best to make her feel welcome. But she kind of said she wanted to kill me and I believe her."

"I mean thinking back on it now, I get why she left. I think it was me. The one who shot her. I mean it's difficult to say for sure given the chaos. All the bullets and brown-"

"Enough." Cristine planted her arm between the two and pushed Troy back with both hands put distance between the two. Troy held his hands up to feign innocence as if he didn't just sour the whole mood with his passive aggressive taunts. "Stop acting like an asshole," she said low enough only he could hear and Troy stared down at her with a rather laid back posture. Her brows twisted together. Confused at his suddenness when everyone was minding their business. 

"I'm going to get that lumber," Nick piped in and relaxed his fists. The dark tempered fury flared like a flame he had to push down, but Nick had it in himself to count to ten. Troy was not worth the energy right now.

"Nick wait-" Cristine called over her shoulder, but he was already walking away.

"See you around Cristine." Nick waved and ended their conversation. He rather not stay around that unhinged psychopath any longer. Troy clearly wanted a reaction from him. He didn't know what the problem was, but this was the second time Troy looked for problems with him this unprovoked. Perhaps, the night out hunting didn't have the desired effect. Glancing over his shoulder, Nick's eyes peeped at Troy and Cristine bickering and rolled his eyes. Nick was not getting in the middle of whatever that was, but he would remember it. Remember that Troy had something that made him react like he did just now. Someone outside of his brother and father.

"What the hell was that about?" Cristine slapped on the corner of his shoulder, scowling. She reacted instantly when Troy leaned forward in a challenging way with his taller figure. Cristine corrected her posture, squared her shoulders, and raised her chin to glare hotly at the disimpassioned militia leader. Troy rest his hands to his hips, a sign he was over the little disturbance he caused and Cristine frowned deeper.

"Just happy Nick's here. He and I are friends now." Troy's shoulders jolt up, shrugging with disinterest and clearly spouting some half-truth. Talking about Luciana was of the past now that she was gone, "his girlfriend couldn't get right with everything and left. She made the right call if you ask me."

"That's exactly it Troy. No one asked and don't act as if was about her or your 'friend' Nick." Cristine breathed out her frustration. Swallowed the harsh words she wanted to say next and pinched the bridge of her nose. All while ignoring the haunting baby blue eyes that zeroed in on her. "Y'know what?" Cristine asked rhetorically as if realizing something and looked away. "I'm not even going to entertain you. We have important things to worry about, like people leaving. Why not focus on that? Start by talking some sense into Mike," Cristine said and watched another family leave with their share of what they put into the pantry. It was true things were getting bad now, but for people to so easily pack all of their stuff and run? Knowing they were outnumbered by the dead outside and leaving the safety of walls willingly? Cristine couldn't process how quick people were to give up. With everything they did to fortify the Ranch. It truly showed how weak and scared the majority of them really were when things got a bit tough. People were about to throw themselves to the wolves and didn't even know it.

They were _weak_.

Peering back at Troy, the waves of his bristling anger were palpable. His eyes were cold and his body tensed. When Cristine said that, she saw his frown entrench into his skin together with the strain of his jaw bones tightening. "His dad wants to leave and Vernon's urging whoever wants to listen to do the same. My dad's doing the best he can to keep them here. But the people are divided."

"Slightest sign of trouble and the cowards are running. We don't need them," Troy spat out and paused in his steps when Cristine stepped closer to stop him. Cold, blue eyes clashed with equally tight, dark ones. This wasn't the time to act proud. Cristine understood not begging, but the Trimbols needed a reason to stay and the Otto's were the ones who could help with that. They owned the land and people listened to them because of that. The people didn't like other deciding their fates, but when it came to tough times, they actually needed that guidance. Who better than the reputable Otto's. So far, Cristine was not impressed with Jeremiah and her father was too preoccupied holding the pieces together while juggling other demons. So much for a united front.

"We do. You and I both know people going leaves us outnumbered and vulnerable against Walker. Like it or not, but our families showing unity is necessary. So suck up your pride and ask your dad to do something, mine already is. Hell- ask Jake if you need to."

"You think I didn't? Jake's fine with it and my dad's not going to beg when our walls, supplies and the _militia_ is reason enough to stay!" The volume of his voice picked up a notch when uttering his frustration. "Your input is more than welcome Cristine." Clenching and unclenching her hands, itching to cover his mouth from talking louder, Cristine shot her hand and wrapped her fingers around Troy's upper arm. It clearly caught him off-guard when she started to drag him with her. She walked with purpose and Troy looker around. The area became less and less populated with cabins and people the further back they went.

"Cristine, where the hell are we going?" Troy dug his heels into the dirt, feet anchored. He didn't budge when she tugged at his arm. The scowl on her lips deepened when she realized he wasn't going to cooperate until clarifying her sudden actions. Cristine opened her mouth before quickly closing it again, hesitating, which was strange in itself. She never held her tongue and Troy arched a brow. Finally, she released his arm and regulated the emotions of her face into the mask Troy had seen so often when she was about to surprise him. Surprise like when she slit Ben's throat and gutted those two inside the cabin. She could do all that and not blink or look back. Troy felt his throat dry up and his mind that was utterly fascinated with that chaotic side of her buzzed in the back of his brain. The side of her driven to do anything to protect and survive resurfaced. It was the brutal pragmatism Troy had come to know and respect Cristine for who now showed eyes of icy black on a canvas of white.

Her mouth reopened, voice steady, "we need to be a step ahead of Walker. I think-" She swallowed before looking around as if to check for eavesdroppers and continued, "I think my dad's been trying to make the prisoner talk. I'm not sure he got something worthwhile out of him or we'd know. I thought maybe we could give it a try. See what we can get out of him." Troy barely blinked as he processed the meaning behind her words. His mouth slightly parted and darting his head up searched for the location of said prisoner. The rundown and weather-beaten cabin standing on top of the dry and desolate hill some yards up directly grabbed his attention.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	21. - Cristine & Troy -

_"Walker's is planning to attack with his war party," _Troy chewed on the outer edge of his lips and thoughtfully inspected the bruised and red of his torn knuckles. Running the pads of his rough fingers over them, his eye twitched at the stinging sensation and welcomed it. The pain cleared up his thoughts, raised the angry fog against his father, Jake, and the cowards. Having this vital piece of information abated his animosity. _"Not sure this one has the details of said attack, but it's not as if we'll keep him alive of let him go if he does spill all the beans." _That was fact. The Nation took out at least eight of theirs since the helicopter attack. Troy thought it only fair they took out some of theirs too. An eye for an eye and Troy was more than willing to pull the trigger.  
  


"What do you think?" Looking up from his occupied hands, Troy pushed himself from the wall the moment Cristine stopped across at an arm's length. He briefly stared over her shoulder at the work James left and he continued. The man was barely holding on, his head lolled to one side, his swollen and heavily-lidded eyes barely open. He festered marks of torture with the objects in the midst of their interrogation. Wetting his lips, tasting the salt on his tongue, Troy cleared is throat. "I think he's said all he knows," Troy answered.   
  


Cristine crossed her arms nodding in agreement with the assessment and frowned. Troy noticed the very subtle shifts- tics - almost that developed within her. The pursing of her lips, the twitch of her lips and the way she reeled in her face into that mask. It was usually the way those quiet, calm obsidian eyes glittered that signaled her uncanny pragmatism through stressful or chaotic moments. "He won't make it through another round of questioning."   
  


It was on the tip of Troy's tongue to ask if she really cared whether he died or not. He wanted to ask what's been on her mind as she witnessed the brutality of the torture, being the one that purposely kept this living being on the scale of life and death just so the torture could repeat itself? All in the name of survival. Troy wanted to ask Cristine what she felt and thought off when watching him commit the taboo of the old world and backing him up so easily. If she still thought of him as the monster she so boldly calmed bare a month or two ago. Feeling the darker part of his mind distracting him, Troy forced his thoughts down with a painful squeeze of his nails into his fisted palms. With the end of the world and him having so much more freedom, this unpredictable _thing_ inside Troy wanted to claw itself out from the last restrictions. But now wasn't the time to expose himself by a brief moment of curiosity and a shared interest. At least, Troy thought, not yet. He would do that when both of them were at the point of no return.  
  


"Well with people taking shit from the pantry... we don't have the luxury to waste more supplies on-"   
  


A clattering noise out of nowhere, cutting Troy off in mid-sentence, startled the duo.   
  


Cristine cusses and darted to the strapped man who suddenly went through a series of horrifying convulsions. From the corner of her eye, Troy sprung in action to reach out, but she stopped him by pushing him back, "don't! You'll make it worse if you touch him. It's a seizure."  
  


"You can't stop it?" Troy was surprised by the way the man's body so powerfully strained against the rope. The chair jerked back and forth, but luckily he didn't tip over and fall down during the attack.  
  


"He just has to go through it," Cristine answered while watching it unfold before her eyes. Only when his body went slack like a rag doll and she saw the faint up and down movements of his chest did she inspect the damage. Forcing one swollen eye open and gently tilting the man's limp head from side to side, did she come to her conclusions. "His brain isn't getting enough oxygen and his blood pressure is teetering. He needs a blood transfusion or he won't make it."   
  


"Which means he's served his purpose." A slightly disappointed look crossed Troy's features, shaded by the lack of light in certain areas. It was too bad they wouldn't be able to get more information. But they could at least prepare for this supposed next attack the Nation had planned. Knowing this valuable information was a whole lot more than before and Troy wanted to prepare his militia and people for that. Hopefully, this would make Big Otto see things differently. Hoped he wouldn't let Jake make calls that were detrimental to the Ranch when it was clear Walker wouldn't ever negotiate with them. Troy hoped his father would listen to him. Hoped that for once, Jeremiah would stand with him and practice the words he ingrained into him as a child. To defend and protect what was theirs and not be fooled by the bleeding hearts claiming the land was stolen. It was impertinent they fight for it... even if that meant dying.  
  


"We should clean this and go," Cristine added and took a step back. Just as she was about to reach for her knife, Troy stopped her with a tug at her elbow and shook of the head. Scrunching her brows, confused and puzzled as to why he would do that.   
  


"We should let him turn. No one can know we were here." His reasoning made a lot of sense. Yet the piercing way his eyes pulled at her irises and how he held her elbow that bit tighter formed a lump inside Cristine's throat. "His body is weak so my estimation is that he'll turn in two, three hours top." His voice turned down an octave, barely above a whisper and the silence in the rank, dusty, and iron-flavored cabin pushed forward. Parting her own lips a little bit, Cristine debated his words that were a small part reason and more fittingly Troy's obsession with death.   
  


"His wounds are new... I don't really see the use of keeping him alive," Cristine sighed and visibly shrugged her shoulders, indifferent if someone would become suspicious or not. She just didn't like the perverseness of what Troy suggested. She got dragged in that once, she wasn't interested in satisfying this urge of his. "Besides, how will you explain how we got this information in the first place?" A pensive expression spread over Troy's slack face. Surely he already thought of that before suggesting they leave their prisoner's fate to chance. Cristine doubted Troy cared much if this linked back to them. He didn't shy away from the things he did cause he never had to worry about the consequences of his actions. His father and brother protected him. It was usually some stern words or a slap on the wrist. He was at least sane enough not to scream it from the top of the rooftops.   
  


Troy his lips lightly pulled up, but there was no humor in his expression. "At this point only we, our dads and Jake know he's still alive. I doubt they'll tell our people about.. this." He gestured at the man. Troy let go of her elbow when he realized he'd been holding it longer than necessary while searching for the woman's changed opinion. It was probably menial, but Troy just wanted to let the guy turn, hell, they could even use his corpse as part of their forcefield. They needed fresh dead meat anyway.  
  


"So you _don't_ want to keep him like this just so he can turn?" Cristine knew she hit a nerve when Troy scoffed and absently rubbed near the edge of her arm where Troy grabbed her.   
  


"Don't really have time to wait for that. I don't have my journal to document the process so an estimation is my best shot." Their conversation felt oddly light-hearted and that in itself came as a surprise. Troy expected Cristine to show her usual disgust with him, but she was apathetic to it all and Trot was equally wary and curious to pry. If it was something he was sure of, Cristine was just that bit more merciful than him.  
  


"I agree we don't have time," Cristine muttered under her breath with a narrowed glower and she moved her body halfway around to look at the unconscious man. "Let him turn. Don't let him turn. Time it or don't. That's not important. What is, is the information we now have. We need a plan."   
  


Troy traveled his fixed stare from the profile of her face, lingering on the darkened bruise at the edge of her mouth and her moving jawline. Cristine was thinking and her expressionless face showed her state of mind. He really wanted to pry and peel down what went through her quiet mind that could become as dark as his own, birthed of an ingrained reaction to fight. This dirty and rundown cabin reminded Troy of the time he remembered being so transfixed with the way Cristine killed in a feverish passion. It was hair-raising, hideous but also so pristinely humane and stunning. Cristine completely flipped the roles of prey and hunter back then. Feeling his throat dry up and mind burst with the fascination of it, Troy suppressed his unnaturally dark thoughts. Now wasn't the time and place to admire her accomplishments. While Troy really wanted to see how long it would take for Cristine to snap out of her daze, he felt it more urgent they delivered this news to their fathers.   
  


They needed to prepare for this upcoming war.   
  


"Fine." Troy said, "let's go. I have a plan."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you guys liking Troy and Cristine's development so far?


	22. Chapter 22

Troy's plan sounded decent. Get ready for the attack by being a few steps ahead of Walker. Give them the idea they were scared and couldn't fight because of the people's division and departure. Walker wanted the land so they would answer his demand with a carefully planned ambush on their turf. Cristine leaned against the edge of the small table and with an eagle view divided her attention between the people present in Jeremiah's office.

Troy stood in front of father's oak desk to present the information and his plan. Jake stood near the window with eyes fixed on his younger brother balancing between worry and hesitation. From the corner of her eyes stood Vernon. James was able to placate him to come. It wasn't a secret he and his family were packing and told anyone willing to listen to heed Walker's warning and abandon Broke Jaw Ranch. Heed his advice to flee to the other 'safer' Prepper communities. As inauspicious as she could Cristine's slightly narrowed gaze landed on the last person she expected to be amongst this gathering; Madison Clark. To her surprise then immediate suspicion her father apparently invited her. He respected the woman's opinions and insights. Cristine didn't know what to think of this little coalition Madison and her father started. She only ever advised Madison to prove herself to the people who weren't sheep. Her father didn't fit that label and Madison successfully managed to loom around James like a shadow. Rolling her fingertips between her palms, Cristine decided to reserve the questions for after.

"We draw them to the Ranch. Let 'em think we abandoned the place and attack them from the front, rear, and flanks." Troy's piercing eyes were plastered on Jeremiah's pensive face after finishing his proposal. It was something he came up with while he and Cristine left their prisoner cabin. They lost more than a few people and after thinking it through, properly this time, Troy came to the conclusion that going to the Nation guns blazing wasn't the best idea. He believed they had a much better chance to beat Walker on their turf and with the illusion they were scared.

Jeremiah looked to his companions. "What do you think?" James scratched the underside of his grey beard and Vernon had this air of hesitance around him. That was good. At least Vernon was wavering his steadfastness to leave with his family to who knew were.

"It's a good plan son," James gave Troy an impressionable look to which the younger man replied by tipping his chin down. "We know the Ranch and the area better than they do. It's a lot of acres. We know where to hide, where to set traps and lure them in."

"And the ones who can't fight? Where do they hide from the battle? The women, children and elderly?" Vernon asked worriedly, thinking about Gretchen and Kathy's safety, "we don't have a time stamp of when this attack will be... they could be coming now as we speak."

"A few of us have RV's. We use those for the vulnerable members and have part of the able bodied protect them. We place them away from the fight, but with an escape route if they need to move," Cristine suggested.

"So this mean negotiations are off the table?" Jake packed the courage to be the voice of reason in response to them discussing declaration war plans. Their right to fight was valid, but it left Jake's conscious with a discomfort that no one even considered an all out war as the last resort. They beat Walker before and there was more at stake than just the Ranch... what about the future they were trying to build? This place was supposed to be more than that. A chance for humans to live together. At least be tolerant of the other while fighting their enemy; the dead. Jake looked at his father then Troy. In this moment, he felt like the odd one out in his own family. It was Troy who was even "What about what we discussed yesterday? Why would Walker even attack when he doesn't have the means to? Our family handled him before and like dad says we won each time."

"When there were courts and laws," Troy didn't hide the frustration in his voice, "the rules of the old world don't count anymore brother. Walker killed our people and our response is to break bread with him? That's the same as us waving the white flag."

"No. That's us making sure both sides stop further bloodshed and reason what's best for our and his people." The answer made Troy snort and look at the ceiling, but he said nothing else. He didn't need to. It was Jake's sentimental ways that would get them killed. Troy loved Jake, but his brother was too soft. That's why he didn't understand why their father would entrust their family's legacy in Jake's hands. Calls like this was going to get them eradicated.

"We don't have anything Walker wants other than the Ranch." Cristine voiced her disagreement. In what world, especially this one, was turning the other cheek even an option? They had the arms, the people, and much more to defend the Ranch. From what the others reiterated in the infirmary, Walker wasn't interested in coexisting. Let alone in peace with them. What he wanted was clear as day and as old as human nature itself. Take what you can to survive and to hell with everything else. "I'm with Troy. This will unify our people. They're scared and are looking for solutions. This is one... even if it results in bloodshed." Unconsciously, she glanced at Troy. The eye contact brief with a silent appreciating glint inside of them. Darting her eyes from one pair of blue to the other, she lowered her voice to emphasize, "they _killed_ Charlie. Killed Phil and his crew. Sounds to me Walker made it perfectly clear what he wants. Which is death if we don't leave. Why not give him what he wants and return the favor?"

Jake sighed, defeat cut through his expectations of anyone giving negotiations a chance. Jake at least expected Cristine to be open to what he was trying to accomplish. But he remembered that when it came to something as base as survival, Cristine was ruthless and unbending. The young medic wasn't that different from the rest of his family in that regard. After a bout of silence, Jake's hands clamped around his biceps. A sign he would accept the unanimous decision. He was the only one against it.

"That settles it then." Jeremiah's heart glowed with the verdict. His dark brown eyes alternated between James and Vernon. While Vernon showed a mixture of emotions that were as clear as day he was anxious, James was the opposite. Outwardly the usually amicable man was just indifferent. Once it became clear Walker and Black Hat Reservation were involved in this and brought back their shared pasts, their thirty plus year friendship shifted for the good and bad. Exhaling, Jeremiah bobbed his head up and down, accepting that this was it was how it was going to be.

-

"You trust Troy to lead the mission?" The question caught Cristine off-guard. She stared in the bluish-green eyes of Madison Clark. With the unanimous decision, they were the last ones to exit the big House. Cristine was on her way to help with some fence mending and Madison followed. The view was peaceful. This scene was as real as the chaos, death and destruction further behind their fences.

Cristine nodded her answer, voice confused. "You don't?"

Madison inhaled deeply, breathing in the fresh oxygen. She watched the high lush green of the hills. During her time here, Madison had time to observe the dynamics of the Founding Father's and their children up close. Jeremiah, Vernon, and James had families and children, same as her. She used that relatability to her advantage. But so far, the Otto's were her priority. James landed in her path when she realized the man was more militant compared to Jeremiah. A welcome surprise. Then there was Cristine, his eldest child. Madison spoke to Cristine once or twice. It was superficial at most. Nick, however, was charmed when he mentioned her. Even Alicia was impressed with Cristine's work as a medic. She was closest to Jake, her sister, and Blake. Her relationship with the Survivalists wasn't anything out of the ordinary, but sometimes there was a distant feeling. A solemnity she didn't fully belong. At least, that was what Madison picked up and she didn't pay Cristine any mind. Until the Big House just then. Madison spotted the, perhaps unconscious, interaction between Cristine and Troy. It wasn't much, but enough it could mean something in the long run. Something Madison could use to her advantage in the future.

The young medic seemed to have faith in Troy's capabilities as a leader. So different when Madison herself experienced that, under pressure, Troy was a tyrant and could be a loose canon. Gulping, she remembered the cold steel of his blade against her throat. It wasn't her intention to taunt him, but Troy's first response fit the tics of an individual with a social disorder and sociopathic tendencies. A troubled young man with mostly mommy issues and who had a strange fascination with her family. Madison was curious about one minor detail and instead of answering Cristine's wary question asked, "is there a reason you asked Troy to help you with the prisoner?" Eyes flicking to the dark polished onyx of her unwavering ones, Madison expectantly waited for a response to a relatively easy question. So when Cristine took a while to reply, Madison narrowed her frowning eyes.

Shaking a hand through her loose curls that hung loosely over he shoulders, Cristine pursed her lips, voice sure, "Cause I knew he could get it done and he did. With men like Walker at our doorstep, we need someone like Troy." Madison not giving her a slither of emotions made Cristine's skin itch. It was difficult to place a pattern, but it didn't feel right. It felt like the woman was trying to pry into her mind. Filter from their conversation what she could use for her own gain, so Cristine tried to let as little as possible slip. "Wouldn't you agree?"

"I do." Again, Madison was unbending, using logic rather than sentiments for what they were about to do. "I thought about what I would do if I saw my husband's killer. The man who took something of mine and almost took my daughter. When I did, I wanted to kill him right then and there, but I came back for my kids." Madison's fingers dug around the wood, the only visible sign to her resenting anger and sadness over the loss of Travis. But even that emotion was fleeting.

"Your children are strong. Smart too." Cristine complimented and the corner of her lips arched in a faint upward curve. "Jake and Alicia, Nick and Jeremiah. They picked the right people-" A pause. "You and Troy," Cristine whispered. "That's why I'd like it if you keep my father- my family out of what plan you have in mind for the Otto's." Cristine didn't wait for Madison's to reply. She silently took the toolbox with her and walked away to do her last chores of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are y'all liking the canon divergent so far? I'm sort if convinced that given the Otto's and Survivalists claim to be militant and all that, they'd definitely would have attacked at some point. But it showed mostly Madison scheming that set things off the moment Alicia and Nick were at risk.
> 
> Anyway would love to hear your thoughts or even a simple heart in the comments.


	23. Chapter 23

"You think they're watching us?" Following her sister's anxious eyes darting back and forth the hills, Cristine too scrutinized the quiet mountain. The silence unnerved most, but Cristine hoped the Nation's scouts witnessed this exodus of Broke Jaw Ranch. This needed to be as convincing as possible, so yes, Cristine wanted their enemy to see them at this point. Strapping the store-it-all boxes with the medical supplies in the back of the truck, Cristine answered, "I hope they do. That's part of this plan."

Hailey's mouth puckered up when she ran her tongue through the inside of her cheek. She was rather envious of her sister. So calm, so sure, and fearless of the risk they took with this plan. If it wasn't for Cristine, Hailey wouldn't have mentally made it through this precarious time. Not without a plan to keep them out of harm's way. The reality of things truly dawned to her when Mike and their team came back. Their other losses were usually so far away from their eyes. The people lost before, those were names and faces she could mourn, but they usually came with a sacrifice. A sacrifice for the Ranch making it through. They held a service, thought of the lost souls and continued with their lives like business as usual. Scrunching her brows, Hailey felt her warm skin prickle and goosebumps ran over her body thinking that this was the first time they were backed into a corner and had to make such a big deal out of jt. Play this game of war. Go outside for the safety of their future, have their militia fight while they hid, temporarily, outside in the wild.

"Here," feeling Cristine pull her towards her, Hailey quietly watched her sister wound the gun holster around her small waist. The weight of the weapon rest heavy on her hip and she felt self-conscious of the fact that this was really it. They were at war. Their livelihood threatened and they were going out to meet the danger. Gulping, Hailey felt her eyes sting, but she pursed her lips to push down the reflexive shake of her them. The tales of the walking dead now a stark reminder in her mind. She could count the spoiled on her fingers, the reanimated head of Jeff in their pantry basement not as funny anymore.

"-Hailey. Did you hear me?" Snapping her neck, wide blue eyes blink at the concerned dark brown of Cristine. Her strong, fearless and brave sister who could take on the world. Feeling the bones of her slender fingers on the curve of her shoulder, Hailey made an inaudible sound at the back of her throat. The unconvinced frown softened some degrees and following her full lips moving, made sense of her heedful advice. "I said, you only use this when it's the last option. We don't want to draw the dead. You remember how to use a gun right?"

"Of course, daddy taught us," Hailey answered under her breath, raising her hand to touch the underside of her sister's outstretched arm and palming it. Feeling the tension in her grip, Hailey grimaced at the thought of this risky plan, but reiterated their militia's instructions to give herself and Cristine a peace of mind. "Silent weapons for the dead. Noise will attract more and we can't risk attracting threats; dead or alive. When facing an infected; aim for the temple, eye or brainstem. Anywhere that's able to penetrate the brain. Hit the skull, blade skips off." Cristine nodded and with it the grip on her shoulder relaxed just that little bit and that small shift alone dropped Hailey's anxiety.

"Good. Now help me with the last infirmary supplies. We're behind schedule as it is."   
  


-

Hunkered over the truck's hood, reviewing his plan over and over, trying to pick out the flaws, risks, all ways things could still go wrong, Troy watched his family out of the corner of his eyes. His father and Jake were tense. Apprehensive of what was in store for them and their home. They would stay on the Ranch, no way Walker would believe they'd willingly surrender their home for decades. It needed to be believable that the Otto clan wouldn't go out with a fight. All with the illusion that the rest of their people abandoned the place in fear of their lives. When the Nation would scout the place with their troops to be certain it was just three patriots who manned the land with booby traps, that's when the others would surround them.

"Don't worry about the plan. It's a solid one." Troy heard Cristine before she stepped in line next to him. Her cap shaded the front view of her face while watching the map and it's details. Clad in a tight sleeved jacket, a precautionary choice of wardrobe reducing the risk of getting stuck somewhere or grabbed by dead hands, she put on her mellowed out, but serious face. "Run me through it again." 

Troy's mind focused the moment they put all of this in action. His finger pointed at the dried gorge ten clicks from the Ranch. It would serve as their caravan's temporarily refuge. "James will be the one in charge. For the time being this gorge will serve as an expedient for laying low. In case you come across hostiles, dead or alive, there's an exit point here and here," Cristine's eyes were glued on the points Troy tapped his fingers on. 

"You'll have a third of the militia to protect you." Troy's hand moved back to the Ranch and lingered there and with a different sort of tune in his voice explained, "back home it'll be me, my dad, and a few of our guys to defend this place to the end, at least, as far as Walker knows. We installed booby traps near the perimeter and on the Ranch itself. Since we're taking the fight to us, it's imperative we do all we can to take a few of his. We rile Walker up to come with as many of his war party to stop an old man and his next of kin." Listening to the plan details, Cristine absently feels over her gun she has resting on her hip. Girding herself. "Meanwhile, we'll have the rest of our men holed up to strike from the rear and sides when we're sure Walker and his fighters are in deep. At our signal, they come in we'll wage the battle of our lives." Troy's voice lowered an octave, piercing eyes slanted down on the marked points of the map. He was oddly calm about it all. Like a soldier who ready for his final battle. This was his purpose in life. His calling and he could already feel the exhilaration in his veins from imagining the battle that would take place. People were going to die, but it was worth it. They were all willing. 

Eyes flicking back and forth between the distances on the map, Cristine finished, "meanwhile we'll be holed up at the gorge. We give it three days tops before sending a scouting party. Easy-peasy," the heavy sigh drizzled with the last two words that betrayed her anxiety. The details were worked out and it was a really good plan, but it was also very risky. Cristine bit the inside of her lip as she tried not to think pessimistically. Thinking of the one person who had it the roughest, Cristine raised her head to look at Troy and asked, "how is Jake taking it all?"

Troy moved his neck so he could divert his gaze away from Cristine and onto his older brother. He did the last rounds of goodbyes. Jake was good at that. Caring for people. They hadn't really spoken after the meeting. Hell, Troy was pretty sure Jake avoided him and it left him indignant. After all these years, Jake still didn't have a clue what the Ranch was about. What they were fighting for and why none of this had anything to do with mercy or co-existing in peace. That wasn't part of human nature. Wetting his lips, Troy jerked his shoulders up before clutching the front of his sleeveless uniform jacket. "It's better he goes with you guys." Troy glanced back at Cristine and sighed, "everyone has their strengths and weaknesses. Fighting isn't for the half-hearted and Jake's good with words and coaxing others." 

Hearing how Troy was at least still worried about his brother stirred Cristine's own understanding of complex sibling relations. She was just happy she was able to better her connection with her younger sister. "I know," Cristine's nose moved when sniffing and palmed her stiff neck. Everyone was on edge right now, but she was convinced this would be worth it. Even Jake would realize it in the end and she hoped he would get right with it. "Since this place will become a warzone, you should try to patch things up with Mike." Meeting blue, she watched them narrow the slightest bit. 

"He's kind of avoiding me. Probably can't wait to leave too." Troy put on a complicated look, one that silently screamed for patronage from the people he was closest to all of his life, but felt so distant in the span of a few days. People he'd known for years, his brother and his best friend were the last ones who couldn't even be honest with him. Troy had gotten more loyalty from Cristine and it wasn't even a week ago he asked the woman to build a friendship.

Cristine shrugged. "He's avoiding most of us. Even has this cold war going on with Hailey. I told him to stop acting like an asshole and he scoffed. I don't blame him for being worried. We all are."

"He wants to leave one of the safest place around here." Troy's voice shook for the first time as he shared his confusion, "I can't see how that keeps him or his family safe. The world as it is now.. it's burned. I don't understand, why he would still choose what's out there over all of this, _willingly_." Troy didn't stare at anything in particular, but the way he voiced his thoughts revealed a mixture confusion and betrayal he'd been walking around with for a few days. "I don't know... the fact that my best friend can't look or talk to me is kind of mind-boggling."

"Well," Cristine sighed and flicked her eyes to the people prepping everything and took her strength from of that. "You made sure everyone is still here; the Trimbols included. Give Mike some time... and if that's not enough. Then you've done all you can. It's not on you and you shouldn't put that burden on yourself. People tend to be disappointing creatures." 

Troy fell silent and absently fumbled with the map on the top of the trunk. Tapping his hand on the warm paper from the hot hood catching the sun's heat, he reviewed the plan again. If this went as expected, and Troy was sure it would, their people and the land was save. A shallow swallow later, Troy scratched his throat and stood straight. "Either way, no time to focus on sentiments. We have a war to win."  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a long chapter, but I have some ideas in store how I want this to go :). Thanks for all the comments I've been receiving lately. I read try to respond to all of them too, but if I haven't: know that I appreciate the support and reading all your thoughts! It's really motivated me to write more.


	24. Chapter 24

Their temporary settlement, a gorge that stood dry for years, wasn't so bad. The sun-bleached cliffs surrounding the area were manned by tents from either side by their militia as guard post. Patches of shrubbery ranging from dark, light to pale plunge into the slanted valley where the Survivalist set up camp. The people were anxious, missing the safety of their walls, but James and Vernon urged everyone to maintain their usual routines as much as they could. That the situation was only temporary until they went back home victorious.

Cristine moved the diaphragm of her stethoscope over her patient's back. "Breathe in deeply for me, please," she requested and intently listened to the breathing sounds and after some silent, passing seconds removed the end of the stethoscope's aside. She glanced at Hailey and instructed her how she could do a simple diagnosis. "The way someone breaths through their lungs can quickly help you determine what's wrong," she explained.

"It sounds like wheezing?" Hailey's brows scrunched up, carefully describe the sound before looking at Cristine for confirmation.

"That's right. Luckily, it's just a case of bronchitis; a cold to the chest," Cristine clarified and took looked back from her sister to the elderly man, "you need to drink lots of fluids and get plenty of rest Mr. Rogers. Try to avoid smoke and fumes from the campfires. I'll give you some cold medicines for relief."

After setting up the infirmary together with some of the guys, that same morning Hailey surprised Cristine with wanting to work under her tutelage. Hailey didn't want to just cook and clean anymore. With heat burning through her cheeks and the flames in her blue eyes, Hailey brought her appeal to her sister. So with their father and even Dolores', permission, Hailey officially became Cristine's novice. Her new assistant was diligent and attentive and even wrote the terms she didn't understand down. While still confused, Hailey didn't take her new duty as a joke or slacked off just because they were sisters.

Smiling at Hailey organizing the medicine cabinet, Cristine looked at the infirmary's other volunteer; Alicia. The girl was busy cleaning a nasty cut from one of the ranchers. Cristine would reserve her judgement for Madison's children given that they didn't give her that wariness when in their presence. The young teen even conversed with her and the people that visited them about menial things. Surprisingly, Alicia had the right, natural and soothing tune to calm someone down. The two would definitely lessen the occupancy of the infirmary in the long run when things would get bad; which Cristine was sure it would. Also, it seemed Hailey found a camaraderie in the youngest Clark member; which wasn't odd given that the two were so close in age.

"Alright ladies, I'll be doing up some check-ups." Cristine rose from the low stool and walked to the corner of the tent. She picked one of the backpacks with medical gear and swung it over her shoulder. Cristine's routine was pretty simple, do check-ups around camp for the more fragile ones in their camp. It was important to maintain some kind system that this was only temporary and alleviate people's anxiousness that family and friends were back at the Ranch to fight for their lives. This was just a part of the whole picture, but it was the most Cristine she felt she could do.

"Can Alicia and I come?" Hailey asked.

Cristine looked between the two. Alicia didn't say much, but Cristine didn't see the harm in them watching and learning. It would help in the long-run. After taking a moment to consider the question Cristine shrugged.

-

Alicia tried not to gawk at Cristine's first patient. The woman tiny and slender in her pastel colored sundress, carefully stroke the roundness of her protruding belly. A stout man stood in the corner of the RV. His harsh brown eyes hawked Cristine's every movement as she inspected his wife. From browsing through the medical bag, to touching his wife's and putting on a pensive expression from the answers provided to her, the muscles on his face were taut. Maybe it was her imagination, but Alicia detected traces of resentment from the tense man, for what she didn't know.

A quiet, scratchy hum left his wife's lips, "little one's been kicking my butt lately. She's dying to come out."

"I noticed." Cristine smiled tightly, almost nervous of the piercing eyes from that particular corner. "How have you been feeling Kathy?"

The woman's light, wavy hair continued to fall over her large stomach. Her flushed face scrunched together and spread her finger over the protrusion that proved she had a second living baby inside of her. Her back ached, carrying all the weight and then some. Glancing at her husband, who suddenly stood straighter from his position her voice softened. "I'm fine," there was some hesitance in her sentence but after reminding herself this child would come into this world, apocalypse or not, her voice hardened. "I'm overdue. I delivered my lil' Cam by C-section. I'll probably have to have our baby girl the same way." Stroking her hands back and forth over the roundness of her stomach, she asked the crucial question her and her husband had been asking themselves these past days, "Jack and I were wondering if you have experience performing the procedure?"

Cristine didn't show that she was surprised by the reasonable question, but her heart dropped. The checkups were always awkward, given that Cristine put down their turned terminally ill son. Back when no one knew that everyone was infected and resurrected. Cameron was the community's youngest and second victim and didn't deserve it and ever since Martha's death Cristine did Kathy's checkups. "Martha isn't here with me anymore, but she taught me well." Her answer was neither haughty or timid and Cristine could only tell them the truth. Leaning forward she stared the expecting parents dead in the eyes. "When she's ready to come out, I promise that I'll deliver your baby into this world."

"You did fine back there sis." A smile graced Cristine's lips once the three exited the terse and awkward RV. The reassuring looks and encouraging words lessened the pressure in her body. "And like you said, you'll deliver their baby."

"I can't blame them for worrying." Cristine pulled up her shoulders that felt heavy.

"Worry? Her husband looked like he wanted to kill you." Alicia's bluntness surprised even herself, exhaling she tried to shake the tension from her body. "Sorry, I just couldn't help but notice he didn't really want you near his wife. He kept glaring at you as if you-"

"Killed someone they loved?" Cristine interjected with a cynical smile and clarified with no hard feelings. "I guess in a way I did. Cameron was their son. He was sick and with the world coming to an end, so did propper access to the right medicine for his illness." Cristine exhaled shakily and stared at nothing in particular while chewing the inside of her lips. "I don't blame them for being angry. The same person who put down their child is the one who has to deliver their baby. Not to mention, an amateur who needs to perform a risky operation that'll threaten the lives of both mother and daughter." In a self-depreciating tone, Cristine put up a wan smile, Alicia remained silent, but the pity in her eyes was clear.

"Well, you're all they have," Alicia said, her tone sharper and steady. "Besides, it's not as if you can't practice the actual procedure."

"Practice?" Hailey's brows knitted together in confusion and even Cristine had a slightly puzzled spark inside her dark eyes.

Pursing her lips, Alicia gestured at the wasteland, voice abrupt, "med students practice with corpses. You have a pick of the litter now. I can't think of a better way to prepare yourself than that."

Hailey was awestruck by her friend's ingenious proposal. But Alicia had a point. Cristine had the most medical experience in their camp right now, she needed to do everything of everything. The time of medical specialists was over. Wanting to help share these burdens her sister always carried by herself, Hailey piped too, agreeing with Alicia, "and you'll have at least two assistants to help you."

Browsing through the cleared infected the militia cleared this morning, Cristine specifically looked at the female bodies only. There was something perverse as she skimmed through the freshness of them before guessing the age category for a fair subject to practice on. Even with the mask covering her nose and mouth, the rot permeating from decayed corpses made her eyes water. The unforgiving sun only amplified that and Cristine did not look forward to cutting into the innards of a rotten corpse.

Jake watched his friend linger at the far end of the lined bodies before peeking a glance at Alicia at Cristine's heels. The two were conversing and discussing whether any of the corpses were the right cut for practice. The pregnant Kathy was one of their most vulnerable members of the community. Having just lost her son not that long ago, the woman was close to give birth to her second child. A baby who would then become the most vulnerable and youngest member of Broke Jaw Ranch in the midst of a war.

"Complicated obstacles call for resourceful solutions." Jake glanced at Blake who stepped in line next to him, both watch Alicia and Cristine crouch to examine a body they deemed appropriate. "Got to hand it to your girlfriend; she's pretty inventive," he pointed out, looking on, ever vigilant, with his rifle cradled up against his chest.

"Alicia was a volunteer nurse before this. I'm glad she wants to help." Jake put on a wan smile, eyes squinting together from the way his face pulled contorted. "I'm glad she's able to ease the burden for Cristine and the others. We need some hope in all this."

"Hope we can join the others pretty soon and finish of Walker and his Nation." Blake tapped his fingers on the warm steel of his assault rifle. All of this looked unfair all of a sudden. Unfair their community and people had to take such drastic measures and hide from a war like refugees. Unfair they were out here in the wasteland with their fighters back home, waiting for news of their victory. Blake would have loved to be one of the people to fight for the cause, but he had his purpose here, people to protect. His gaze lingered on Cristine who finally waved her hand for assistance with the corpse they picked. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit of a throwback to background characters in my first book ;)
> 
> Thoughts?


	25. - Troy -

Troy stared out over the gates, his profile painted by the setting sun. He notices a few of the men who stayed behind patrolling the empty acres of land their AR-15 assault rifle hanging around his upper torso like soldiers from some war. With his dexterous hands and fingers, Troy stripped his weapon and began to clean it. The craft and care that went into the creation of guns never ceased to amaze him. He couldn't envision a life without it, not when it came to this mad world. After setting some cleaned pieces aside, Troy worked from the breech end and ran a cleaning rod down the insides. It was a sequence of constant motions, ensuring he got his piece cleaned.

Trying to remember the last time he was this exhilarated, focused, and truly alive, Troy thought back to his ingenuous plan of hiding between a pile of corpses to hide from an incoming horde. It was a surrealistic and mind numbing experience and something he often thought of. Playing possum; their lives miniscule between the trekking dead. Outnumbered, overpowered and in over his head and the world didn't belong to the living in that moment, but to the dead. To nature that rectified and destroyed without bias like it was nothing and even time itself lost it's meaning back then. Troy remembered how his heart pounded, heard his ears pound from the agitated noises of the dead and their stench.

He'd almost admit that he felt the single sinuous ambience of the dead. Troy had never experienced such bizarre beauty in his life. It was the first time he was in the thick of such a hopeless situation, but he remembered smiling. He was giddy by the beast that moved on its own led by nothing but feral drive. Goosebumps ran over his arms at the hair raising memory that settled in the deepest fiber of his being. Yet even with his life and that of his team just hanging on a thread, Troy didn't fear death. He was simply fascinated with how life and death evolved into its current state. How that cycled changed and became intermittent. It was more excitement for Troy than whatnot -not fear- and he'd accept his fate. In the face of tasting and touching death, quite literally, the nerves in Troy's body electrified. His senses sharpened like a knife and deep in the crevices of his mind and welcomed this war they were going to wage. A war that wasn't with the dead, but the living. He was ready, like so many. Troy didn't care about his life at this point, just that they'd win and got rid of Walker and the Nation for good. It was what he was trained and taught to do. Big Otto ingrained it into him to never to retreat or surrender. Take down the assholes who do you wrong and ignore the bleeding hearts with talk of stolen land and all that. This was his and his family's home and he'd defend it even if it had to be ruined. The enemy would have to put a bullet in his brain, burn his body and exterminate his bloodline if they were hell bent on taking this place.

Troy thought of his brother and hoped Jake was safe. In spite of everything, their issues and complications Troy wanted his brother back in one piece. He hoped somewhere that his sibling would finally understand why they did what they did. Jake was always soft and too good for this world. He tried, but he didn't really know what the Ranch was about. Troy resented Jake when he left him behind for college. The end of the world opened a new chapter and a bit closer, at least when they were starting to build this place and people came to the Ranch for safety and protection. Troy becoming responsible for those two things and leader of the militia gave him a new purpose. A new calling in this world that he could finally breathe as a person his family didn't look at him like he was a lost cause.

"Troy come in, over." Shaken from his thoughts, Troy quickly grabbed the walkie-talkie from the table and thumbs the talk button. The sound just crackles when resounding.

"Cristine?" Frowning, Troy was surprised to hear the woman call in. Usually it was either Jake, Blake or James that came with a status report. Wetting his lips, Troy unconsciously straightened his body and asked, "everything alright back there?"

"We're all fine considering." Cristine's voice sizzled and Troy's brows scrunched together, confused as to why she was calling in instead. He waited for a bit so she could clarify and slightly relaxed when she did. "I'm on some kind of break and needed to keep my mind distracted. Thought of checking in with you. How's everything? Any news?"

Troy glanced at the gates and hills. It all had the illusion of serenity. Like a calm before the storm, but there wasn't anything out of the ordinary and none had spotted any fresh tracks that indicated scouts were around yet. Troy picked up his fully resembled gun while he organizing his thoughts for what was to come. He chewed on the inside of his cheek and a tranquility washed over his body and thumbed in the button to answer and inadvertently stared at the only way for the enemy to enter. "It's been... quiet ever since you all left. I don't know if it's the good or bad kind for sure. It's probably the bad."

"Like with everything." Troy didn't know if that was defeat he heard in her voice.

"How is the flock?" Troy and his men usually addressed the ones that couldn't do what they did as the flock. It was an inside joke, but a very real mentality their people had. Somewhere, Troy was glad they experienced peril, uncertainty, and hardships. At least then, they would realize what he and his men did every day. The risks they took and the expectation and burdens carried by the militia tasked with protection. Troy wasn't asking for a pat on the back just less judgement about how they protected the Ranch. Less gossip from the ones labeling him a bad person. He wasn't.

"A bit on edge, but otherwise fine. We have a system in place with a routine. It also helps that the Trimbols stayed and Jake's here to be the voice of reason, morality, and hope. They need it after this reality check." Troy agreed. Still, it felt like there was another reason Cristine called in. This report could have come from Jake or James, but she specifically called in his line when his father was the one who needed to be kept in the loop to make the calls.

"And you?" Troy asked carefully, eyes squinted and breath even. "How's the new job treating you?" It was quiet on the other side and Troy was almost tempted to repeat his question when he heard some crackling.

"Kathy's due. Don't know when, but her and her baby's life are in my hands. I'm practicing the procedure on some corpses as we speak. I don't know- I promised I'd deliver that baby- I _have_ to whether I want it or not, but if something goes wrong... that's another life to add on my list."

Troy was speechless. Not over the fact that Cristine needed to do something complicated she had no experience with. Or that she, in a way, was done with the blood shed if she could choose. But more so over the fact that she radioed _him_ in to talk about her grievances. Troy only had basic first aid experience, so Cristine clearly didn't come for medical advice. She wanted to vent and probably hide whatever insecurities she had from the rest. Which was a good call to avoid a panic. But Troy picked up something interesting in her confession and tried to address it, "remember when you saved Ben? Odds were against him after that bite. Yet you saved his life- well after you decided on the spot he wasn't of use to us anymore." Troy smiled perversely at that ruthless moment and calculated moment that surprised them all.

"The point, Troy," Cristine sounded impatient.

"The point is that you took a chance. You cut off his arm clean and nursed him back to life without thinking about it. You wasted supplies on someone who you weren't sure was going to make it. Yeah, you were going to kill him cause he needed to die for our sakes, but back then you had a goal in mind and completed it." Troy paused, gaze thoughtful of all the risks and chances they were all taking. "I get it. You're worried about screwing up. Instead of thinking what can go wrong, list the things that can go right. Worst case scenario... Kathy doesn't make it, but her baby does. It still means you saved a life. Jake says it best; there's always some light in the dark. Some sort of hope."

There was a pause again and Troy wasn't sure if that helped her with what she was looking for. Troy wasn't overly attached or good at giving any emotional advice. Most of the time he didn't care, but their current situation demanded it. Unity, chain of command all under his himself coordinated with a little bit of help from Cristine. This all of their future now and while he was ready to die, Troy wanted the Ranch to be a better place than before; like his father always preached. It was far from perfect and a work in progress, but everyone needed to pull their weight right now. Even Cristine bearing the responsibility of delivering a child pretty soon.

"So what's your light in all of this? Going out guns blazing?" Cristine finally asked.

"Well, I knew this was always going to happen one way or another. Much earlier than I expected, but if this is my final stand than it is. If it means giving my life for my home, I'd always choose that over anything else. It's what I'm meant to do, just like you're meant to bring a baby into this world." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted this to be a Troy centric chapter and ended up adding Cristine into the mix. I like it for obvious reasons and hope you guys did too :).


	26. Chapter 26

_"I need to cut through the abdomen wall, then the uterus."_ Perspiration trickled down Cristine's forehead and neck. Despite the shade, the warmth festering was unbearable. The stench of the fly infested infected didn't help either, but Cristine tried to ignore it and clenched her dominant hand around the knife, tip pointing along the washed out and wrinkled skin. The dark of her eyes focused on the bare stomach with a vivid concentration. Taking a few deep breaths in short intervals, the steel of her Bowie knife stilled completely.

A steady hand.

The sharp tip split the skin two. Cristine ignored the dark, clotted liquid that seeped through the incision. Blinking quickly, she did her best to ignore the smell, girding her focus. One wrong move and she'd cut through arteries and that would be the end of Kathy's life. Her mind emptied and thoughts calmed. Cristine didn't even feel the heat around her anymore, her audience didn't exist during the procedure. With the abdomen opened, Cristine's made another side-to-side incision through the location of the uterus. A sharp exhale later, the protective membrane where a conceived baby would be located ruptured. The moment the sack spilled, Cristine couldn't take the smell anymore and sat back on her hunches.

From her side, Alicia mirrored Cristine's actions and muffled her nose with the back of her hand, face green and pale. But she flicked her in the direction of the ruptured membrane where the uterus was located. Closely inspecting it, Alicia reflexively glanced at the half a dozen corpses from the corners of her eyes. The procedure on then 'failed' and meant the patient would be dead from excessive blood loss. "Next comes stitching the uterus and stomach." Alicia handed Cristine a thread and needle and watched the gloved hands start to push the needle through the wrinkly skin to fasten everything back together.

"It looks alright?" The confused voice of Hailey stated before looking at Alicia for clarification. "I mean that's it right?"

"She applied the theory correctly, yes." Alicia nodded in agreement with Hailey's observation. However, the traces of concern on her face didn't convince the youngest Gerrard sister this meant. Giving her friend a look, Alicia wiped the top of her sweaty head with her upper arm. "It's still a corpse Hailey. Cutting through it now is easy since the uterus is empty. Also, the procedure is risky given that the first time Kathy got a C-section it was because there were complications."

"Like?" Hailey inquired for clarification.

"Like her needing a blood transfusion," Cristine's muffled voice from under the face mask sounded slightly scratchy and both Alicia and Hailey looked at the finished stitching work. It was a neat, clean line. Pushing herself to sit up straight, Cristine undid the bloody dark brown gloves from her hands and pulled her mask from the bottom of her face. "Kathy's being monitored and she has a history of high blood pressure, which means she's even more susceptible to have a difficult time delivering the baby."

"We also need a place that's sterile. Chances of an infection are so much higher now, especially now that we're outside." Alicia pointed out.

The severe expressions of her sister and friend jolted something within Hailey. Biting her lip, she found it in her to see the positivity in all this. "We can't focus on that now. Everything's still good for now and we don't know for sure if that'll even happen. But that-" she pointed at the stitches and smiled at Cristine, cheeks rosy. "Let's celebrate the fact that you did an awesome job with it. And you have us, right?"

Alicia's pouty lips twitched and after thinking it through she bobbed her head up and down, a tiny smile too filled her face. "You're right."

"Of course I am." Hailey puffed her chest out with pride before squealing when Cristine pinched her cheek out of nowhere.

"You're losing that baby fat Hailey." Cristine said with slight disappointment in her voice. The angry flaring of her sister's nose and complaints actually washed the insecurities away.

"You're such a loser Cris," Hailey batted the same hands away when they reached for the pulsing flesh of her reddened cheeks again.

"You love this loser." Cristine teased.

"Ugh, whatever you've convinced yourself."

-

After finishing the last check ups around the camp, the three returned to the infirmary. Once there, they- especially Hailey was surprised to see Mike present. Cristine watched her baby sister stiffen and even Alicia frowned. It wasn't a secret that the Trimbols, especially Mike and Vernon, had been the loudest ones telling people to leave or die at the hands of the Nation. With that division, Mike wasn't talking to Hailey, maybe out of shame or just because he didn't know how to face her.

"Uh, hey, uhm-" Mike began in an uncomfortable tune and stared at his girlfriend who had a poker face that was so similar to the indifferent masks Cristine put up.

"You need something Mike?" Cristine crossed her arms underneath her chest and tilted her head, brows cocked and just disappointment rolling from her body. Mike wiped his hand on the front of his pants, riffle resting on his back and even with him looking like the militant man clad in his militia uniform and all, his presence in front of the three women, he felt like a douchebag. Blue eyes flicker in Hailey's direction and the sadness on her face tightened his gut. "I wanted to talk with Hailey, if you're fine with that?" He sucked up his guilt and shame was surprised to hear his voice come out so clear and strong.

Alicia and Cristine looked at Hailey, who visibly tensed. Mike wouldn't even look at her and their last conversation ended into an argument. They both said some pretty nasty and hurtful things to the other. Hailey wanted to be the first one to apologize back then, but Mike didn't even want to talk to her, so to see him come back now showed that he did care somewhere. Her face scrunched together with difficulty, but she didn't want to outright deny a possibility they could perhaps work this out. Gulping, Hailey then wrung her hands together. It was only after the supportive glance from Cristine that she found her voice.

"Yeah, sure... let's go outside."

"You think they'll make up?" Alicia was busy making some new emergency kits and occasionally looked outside where Hailey and Mike were talking under the shade of an open tent. She met Hailey at bible study and the two got along pretty well. Hailey was so easy to talk with and unlike Gretchen seemed to handle her own shit a lot easier even if she didn't have the same experience as her outside. Also, Hailey figured out quite rather quickly her and Jake were hooking up and that sealed the deal of a friendship. Alicia felt like being in high-school talking about the things she did with Hailey and didn't dislike it that much as she thought.

Cristine was busy rummaging through the storage box and fished out the rough looking cover of a note book. Alicia's question made her pause before following the direction in which her sister conversed with her boyfriend. Cristine's expression was callous and unimpressed with the display. "Hailey is a big girl. I hope she'll do what's right for her. If it means her and Mike breaking up; I'll be here to comfort her. If it isn't; that's her choice and she'll have to deal with that." Cristine walked over to the small table Alicia sat at, took out a pen and flipped open a fresh page to start writing. Her brains worked overtime during the times she wasn't occupied with treatments, check-ups and training, and wrote a medical journal. A few important books they had were, unfortunately, burned when the Brown's died. Whenever Cristine could take some time out of her schedule she wrote a comprehensive handbook that wasn't exactly the standard first-aid book. Accidents were riskier now and without the technology of before the journal was geared to inform the people with no experience.

Alicia didn't miss the slight resentment and jab in Cristine's statements and stopped to watch her immersed in her writing. "Every couple has their issues and you make a relationship as weird and as complicated as you want." Alicia pulled up her shoulders in a slight shrug. "But it just feels nice to have someone you can hold and talk to... other than family."

"So that's why you chose Jake," Cristine said.

Cristine's statement caught Alicia completely off-guard she was left speechless for a minute. But the miniscule movement near the corner of Cristine's mouth and the deep dimple brought down her nerves. She didn't expect Cristine one to be so bold and direct. With a slight shake of the head and roll of her eyes, the dark blonde palmed the back of her flushed neck. "I like Jake." There was no need to lie, Alicia honestly liked him, even if her intentions were also a bit for the sake of her family. "He's a nice guy and- honestly, I first thought you and him had something going on."

Cristine choked on her spit, eyes wide and mouth agape from the spoken words. A sharp sound then shook her whole body and this was the first time in long while Cristine laughed merrily at something so hilariously incorrect. Pressing a hand on her coiling stomach, the young doctor ended up wiping the tears from her face. Even Alicia started to feel bad for Jake and the way his friend cackled at the idea of the two of them ever being an item. "I'm sorry-" Cristine waved a hand, muffled laughs coming out in intervals. "It's not like Jake's not my type or anything, but he's like a brother to me. The idea of me and him is a really bad joke. You should tell him that if the two of you are arguing and he's being stubborn. Even a boy-next-door sweetheart like Jake would love to have his ego stroked by his girlfriend."

"We're not boyfriend and girlfriend. We haven't established anything like that, which I don't mind." The sense of normalcy when talking about relationships softened the mood and Alicia felt at ease to talk about it. The confusion of this new world made her feel insecure and it felt as if she didn't have a purpose or something to believe in. This new job as a nurse and being with Jake stabilized those thoughts and feelings. Alicia found it easier to adapt right now and she had some sort of hope again. Despite them having to hide and wait for the brewing war to end.

"A hookup, huh? Either way, I'm happy Jake has someone around him too. He usually only thinks about others and ignores his own well being. He's good like that."

"Soooo," Alicia rolled the word down her tongue and crossed her arms over the other and leaned forward with an expectant gaze that asked where Cristine's fling. To which, the later shook her head with a teasing smile.

"The last person I was with was my ex. And that was before. I honestly don't mind. Y'know, surviving from the dead doesn't give you that much free time to really think about it."

"So I'm correct to assume you and Blake are good friends too?" The nonchalant chuckle of Cristine's eyes wasn't as strong as Alicia thought it would be and Alicia pried, "not _even_ as a hookup?"

"You're correct to assume that. Also, never hookup with friends. Too many complications and it'll ruin the friendship."

"What'll ruin the friendship?" Waltzing back in, Hailey heard the last part of Cristine's sentence and looked at the two with wonder.

"Nothing." Cristine squinted her eyes to search for any signs that Hailey was about to cry or looked elated. There was none of it on her expression, so Cristine asked, "how'd it go?"

"We broke up." Hailey shrugged. The news clearly surprising the two and Cristine in particular who kept looking at her as if she was walking around with a second head. "We don't think this is the time to be distracted. Not with a war at our door and the possibility of death. We want to spare ourselves and the other those grievances."

"Are you okay?" Alicia carefully asked, brows stretching and eyes showing the kind of concern her family had for her. Instead of be influenced by it like she usually was by bursting out in tears, she was both soothed and strengthened by it. Volunteering to help around the infirmary, seeing Cristine in action with the people and her and Alicia sometimes talking about how outside was, Hailey felt spoiled and needed a wakeup call really. That sense of normalcy would never return again, no matter how much she wanted to. How much her mother and father tried to smother her and protect her from the wild. She didn't want to die unprepared and naïve. Didn't want to be a burden, so the first thing to do was think of her and how she could pull her weight and protect herself and her family.

"I'm fine. I made that decision for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A cute chapter. Hope this cleared up the relationships and platonic and non-platonic ones too. But ya'll are free to ship whoever you want in this story ;). I know which direction I'm taking it. Love to read your thoughts. 


	27. Chapter 27

First came the screams and then shooting followed by the groaning of the dead.

After the first shots, Cristine instinctively reached for her gun. Quick to respond, she burst off in the direction of the chaos and yelled at the people without weapons to go to their RV's. Her father and Jake were hot on her heels. The panicked howls and crying from women and children echoed across the rocky gorge.

"Blake- Blake what the hell happened?!" Arriving at the scene, Cristine saw Blake and a few militia members either hack or shoot at the incoming dead. Confused, Cristine looked upwards at their militia's post and saw that it was less occupied than usual. She didn't have time to wonder why that was because a high-pitched scream split her thoughts. A lanky dead was clawing and humping at the poor woman who did her best to push the heavy body from on top off her. Jolting into action, Cristine slipped her blade from her hip and slipped it between the soft underside of the skull. The body stiffened before slumping down and she threw it from the shell shocked woman.

Checking her for any bites or scratches, Cristine then lightly tapped the frozen woman in the cheeks and made sure she garnered her attention. "Sam I need you to go to the RV's like we discussed for situations like this. You stay there until we say it's safe alright? If you heard me, I need you to say alright and repeat what I said."

"A-Alright. I-I'll go back to the RV's until you say we're safe." Sam choked on her tears, body shaking. Cristine helped the redhead up her feet and pointed in the far back between the tents where she needed to go. When she was sure Sam was heading in the right direction, Cristine then whipped her head in the direction of the militia, Jake, her father and few others keeping the dead back with their guns.

Where the hell did these dead come from and why hadn't their militia spotted it earlier?!

"Son of a bitch. There's more of 'em!" Blake yells from where he stood with his rifle pointed at the stampeding dead. He and a handful tacitly formed a curved line between the camp and the dead.

"How many?!" James asked, after discharging a bullet in the center of one's head.

"Can't tell!" Blake reloaded the magazine with a new one and stated, "but from the way they keep coming we're outnumbered."

"We'll run out of ammo and stamina before we take them all. We need to cut them off and redirect what we can." Cristine glowered when the one she shot went down like a ragdoll in faded and dusty clothes, milky eyes rolled in the back of it's skull. She stepped back, breaths coming out in pants from the adrenaline and exertion, body wet with perspiration. The first numbers were easier to manage, but even with their weapons it wouldn't last that long.

Jake agreed, "the road west is all wasteland, we need drive at least 10 klicks from our camp to be sure. We take one- two trucks." An infected did a little woozy shuffle before snapping its jaws at Jake. Pushing it back roughly, Jake slashed through half its head, severing the top part of the skull. He catches his breath, machete in his hand, lightly panting with exhaustion. "I'll do it."

Cristine nodded and opened her mouth to volunteer, "I'll come with-"

"Cristine!" Tearing her eyes away from Jake and twisting her neck to look at the person that called for her. Surprised, Alicia and her family ran across the dirt towards them.

"What happened?" Madison asked, eyes taking in the scene of incoming infected with surprise.

"No time. Jake and I are going to lead part of them away with the trucks," Cristine answered.

Alicia shook her head, face red from the heat and running and blurted out. "You can't. Kathy's bleeding."

"What!? What happened?"

"Stress. This- I don't know for sure, but we need to operate," Alicia explained.

"You two go. Nick and I will stay to help the others," Madison urged the two.

-

All the ways this could go wrong come flooding in when Cristine laid eyes on the pale looking Kathy with her husband at one side and Hailey at the other side, wiping the woman's sweaty face. It was like her mind send her body a blank signal. It grew when she watched Alicia's mouth move, but the words sounded so hollow inside her ears and it felt like walking through quicksand every step she made it closer to what she'd been dreading deep down. The warm sweat on her flushed skin felt uncomfortable and Cristine unconsciously squared her shoulders as Jack spotted her and quickly crossed the distance, eyes frantic and almost begging when she stepped inside the tent.

"Cristine- we- we don't know what's happening. Kathy is in pain and then she started bleeding. Please- please do something." She ignored the way his large hand painfully squeezed the bones of her shoulders. "You have to save my baby girl, please." Cristine tried to stay calm when she heard Jack's frantic pleas and noted his misty eyes. But when she opened her mouth, the words stuck in her throat.

"Jack, we'll handle it. Just give us some space so we can check on Kathy," Alicia picked up Cristine struggling to find the right words, even just the comforting and reassuring ones and quickly said her piece to alleviate at least some of the man's anxiousness. Jack quickly nodded in understanding and Alicia brushed her hand against Cristine, a subtle sign of support and comfort that snapped the older woman from her daze.

Blood. There was a concerning amount of blood coming from between Kathy's legs and after checking for a heartbeat, Cristine determined that the baby was alive. This wasn't a miscarriage, but something else was wrong. "Kathy when you had Cam through your first C-section… were you also have vaginal bleeding? Or leaking any clear fluids for that matter."

"Just a bit of bleeding. A lot of stomach and backpains that were different from the usual ones. I'm also feeling the contractions. Is- is my baby alright?" Kathy's lips quivered, face ashen and the frightened and frazzled look of her losing her child was the only thought going through her mind.

"You're baby's alive," Cristine assured her first and foremost and that deterred her own nerves. "I think you're placenta detached too early and it should usually do that after birth. But I need to operate now. There is a chance that the baby isn't getting enough oxygen. We'll administer the local anesthetics with some sedatives like you asked. You'll be awake during it all, but paralyzed from the waist down. You won't feel a thing I promise. "

"Thank you." Kathy clenched through her teeth after bearing another wave of contractions and stomach pains.

"Jack." Hearing his name, the large man quickly scurried up to them, sweaty palms clenching and unclenching. "Kathy's already lost blood and that probably means a blood transfusion. The two of you have the same blood type so that'll make the process a lot easier."

"Of course." Quickly bobbing his head up and down, Hailey guided Jack to the nearest table and began to meticulously follow the steps to prep him for the blood transfusion.

Alicia stepped forward, close enough only the two of them could hear the other speak. "We didn't count on an placental abruption." Her blue-green eyes fogged over with concern as she shared her concerns. The worst thing that could happen did and there were dead outside too.

"We didn't count on performing a C-section while our camp's being attacked by the dead either, but here we are. So let's just aim for the best and trust the others to keep us safe." Cristine tightened her expression and all the reasons to do this came flooding in. The anxiousness was still there, but she had to do this now. Breathing out real slow, the negative thoughts leaked into the abyss and Cristine thought of the pretty direct statement Troy made during their last talk.

-

It was almost dark by the time Blake and James were able to keep the chaos inside their camp under control. Flies festered around the more than dozens of corpses. He stifles a dry cough from behind the mask covering the lower part of his face. Again. The noise dropped in an instant and the silence hun heavy in the air.

"We're good." The low baritone voice of James, gravely states. He was doubled over in exhaustion and panting, face twisted from the exertion his lungs and heart had to do to recover from the constant fight. Eyes blinking at the shimmering distance, face glowing with sweat, suffused with the exertion of infected disposal.

"For now," Blake muttered and cleaned his machete with a few rough swiping movements to the ground. He looked into the distance where Jake, Madison and Nick took the trucks to cut off part of the dead and lead them away from here. That was two hours ago. Last contact a bit less than that, but for now Blake would alleviate his energy for what was important here; their people and the security. "We'll clean this up Mr. Gerrard. Mike and his dad are protecting the rest near the RV's."

James looks at Blake, nodding. The soles of his shoes were a bit slippery as he approached Blake who visibly tensed, jaw locking with a severity and trace of concern and guilt. James came nose to nose with him and lowered his voice, "you did a good job holding your cool son. This was an error of judgement on my part. We should have double-checked like you told me to. It wasn't meant to happen like this."

"I understand- it's just-" Blake searched for his words and looked in the distance, "a few of ours are still out there. It doesn't feel right jeopardizing the safety of our camp on purpose. If something happens that's on me." Blake's voice shook, as he formed the dreadful thought.

"No. That's on me," James interjected crisply, eyes darkened when he laid a grimy hand on top of Blake's shoulder and squeezed it. With a shake of the head he corrects the younger man without missing a beat, "It was me who gave the order to spread the guards at elevation thinner. Just to allow a few dead in. Nothing we couldn't handle. You, like a good soldier, followed your orders. That's loyalty and discipline. It will show the ones still petitioning against returning back home they can't survive or function without a militia."

"You really think Vernon and the ones who back him will change their minds?"

"_They have _to." Blake nodded a few times. He let the justification about James's planned ambush on their camp sink in. When James first told him his orders, Blake couldn't believe his ears. Then he heard the reason why. Vernon still whispered to whoever was willing to listen to think twice. He was convinced that even if the community won from the Nation, there would be like-minded enemies. Vernon didn't want to take that risk for his family and planted a seed of doubt in people's minds. Blake was angry when he heard it and even argued with Mike about it. He was just as cowardly as his father and being a pussy about this all.

"I know you and Cristine are close Blake, but she can't know," James added.

Blake swallowed. The severe blue gaze made him double down on that idea. What Cristine didn't know wouldn't hurt her. Maybe she would agree or maybe not. But he was a soldier too that had a duty to protect their camp. "I understand. This stays between us Mr. Gerrard." Blake assured and the strong grip on his shoulder finally slackened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI: My updating schedule is weekly and usually in the weekends.  
Had a really busy week, why I had to skip last week's update.

The procedure itself wasn't any different from what Cristine read or practiced. The steps for the actual surgery was similar. It was just that the birth plan due to Kathy's emergency circumstances required that the birth plan deviated from its original one; Cristine needed to get this done much, much faster. Cristine calculated and she had 30 minutes give or take to perform the surgery. It wouldn't take the anesthesia Kathy wanted to stay half awake long enough to use, so in the end Cristine told Alicia to administer the general anesthesia. It knocked Kathy out when the mask was over the woman's mouth. The area they rebuild as a surgery room was covered with curtains and sheets and surrounded her and Alicia. Hailey was on the other side taking Jack's blood for a transfusion.

"Ready?" A small sigh of anxiety escapes Cristine's mouth in regards to the question. Tersely, her eyes flicker at Alicia, mouth covered with the same turquoise colored disposable mask. Cristine's body was on autopilot so she didn't realize she nodded until Alicia pushed one of the tools inside her gloved hands. During a regular procedure this would be more measured; but that alone would typically take up to 10 to 15 minutes. That was time neither Kathy or the baby could spare. Cristine her eyes zoomed in on the smooth uncut skin near Kathy's bikini line and pressed the tip along the skin with a quick, but steady grip. Her mind emptied and thoughts were nonexistent to anything else but the task at hand. With Kathy's abdomen opened, Cristine's made another side-to-side incision through the location of the uterus.

Everything went well enough and Cristine and Alicia were both hopeful at least this would be a light during these frantic times. Kept hope that the militia did their part and kept them safe and the dead away, while they did theirs and deliver a child into this cruel and ruthlessness world. And that mercilessness manifested itself in the heat of the operation, just as Cristine parted Kathy's stomach with bloody covered hands and went for the protective sack where the baby was located.

"JACK!" Hailey's yell was loud and piercing

"AAARGHHHH!" Jack's guttural yell startled the two, but Alicia quickly made sure to keep Cristine's hold firm lest she make a fatal slip up. Wide, dark eyes anxiously dart back and forth between the bloody mess on the operating table and the curtains covering the other side of what sounded like an attack.

"Hailey? Hailey!!" Cristine still called out fearfully for her sister when she hears a thwack of what sounded like a weapon and… struggling.

"Cristine! You can't! You need to focus!" Alicia yelled back and kept the taller woman in her place when she felt her move out of reflex. "I got it. But you need to keep going no matter what. Say that you'll keep going." Alicia saw Cristine's unwillingness dampen just the slightest bit even during the smacking noise on the other side.

"I'll keep going. Just- just make sure Hailey-"

"I got it." Alicia feverishly nodded and when she was positive that Cristine was with her back turned, extracting the baby from the womb, swung the white sheets aside. Blue eyes widened a fraction, registering for a moment that the red that coated the dirt wasn't from the batches for Kathy's blood transfusion. Her face blanched at the messy and unexpected scene and Alicia got reached for her knife on instinct.

-

**CRASH!**

The sound echoed and Troy lumbered down the stairs in as quickly as he could. The noise was similar to glass shattering, but after that the silence filled his home again. Still, Troy was wary and he held his gun in his hand and carefully walked around the stairs towards the room where the crash originated from; his father's working room. The light source of the office lamp created a soft, light yellowish glow in the expanse of the room. Troy raised his weapon up to his chest with both his hands wrapped around the cold steel. As he turned the corner, Troy's eyes flicked to the desk in instinct, expecting his father to sit there, but it was vacant. He didn't have to search for Big Otto. He saw him crouched on the floor, focused with picking shards of glass. Troy's brow tensed and he opened his mouth to ask if his father was alright only to press his lips together quickly when the reflection of the bottle on his desk caught his eye. He felt the acid smell on his skin from when he was younger. The hard stench of liquor in his nose when his mother or father were in a drunken rage. Troy even felt that faint burn down his throat when he was talked- no yelled at for no reason. Words that made his soul bleed as a kid, creating scars that never healed, even when he himself believed they did. He wasn't that weak little kid who cried about bullshit anymore.

"Troy? What're you standing there for? Get a broom and help me clean this mess up." Troy felt a strong pressure in his shoulders. His father's gravelly voice prickled his skin. Two large dark brown eyes peered back at him. The silence lingering between them long and heavy. The arch of the big Otto's brow and faint gesture towards Troy's half raised gun felt a bit mocking. He eventually lowered his gun and clipped it back in the holster of his pants and went to get a broom.

Meanwhile, Jeremiah got rid of the glass shards. He carefully got to his feet, wincing at the tight throbbing that settled in the center of his head. Using the table as support for his full weight, a grunt escaped his mouth. He heard the steady footsteps and glanced from the corners of his eye and silently watched Troy brush up the shards with a broom. Jeremiah licked his lips, taste of whisky fresh on his lips. The last time he was intoxicated was when h nearly blew his private parts off. The feel of the strong beverage left his cheeks flushed and mind in a fog. Jeremiah's hands gripped the edge of the wooden desk, eyes swiveling in a distressed response of a headache.

"Dad," Troy began in a calm voice. "You need to lay down dad and sober up."

"I'm fine," Jeremiah said, voice prickly and attitude soured. "Shouldn't you be keeping an eye out outside?" Jeremiah turned his back towards his youngest son and walked around his desk and tiredly slid down his chair. The surface eased his tired bones and aching muscles once again staring at Troy. He stood tall in the dimly lit room, eyes failing to inauspiciously dart between him and the bottle of whisky. Jeremiah grimaced and shook his head. "You got something to say son?"

"No, I-" Troy hammered, but despite it faltering the traces of disdain were present in his blue gaze. His eyes then briefly dropped at the wooden floor as if he was pick up the courage from it. Troy rolled his shoulders once and raised his head again. "I just think we all need to stay sharp. The Nation can attack us anytime."

"Yeah? You the expert now?" Jeremiah licked his lips and pointed in the direction of the window, gesturing at the Ranch, "I've defended this place even before this world went mad. Protected you from these savages when you were still sucking at your mama's teat. You don't think I see the way you look at me?" The drink tuned the volume on his thought. Memories of the past and present jumbled together and resurfaced. He'd been thinking of the past, the two friends he'd already lost and one that was on the brink on betraying… while the other. The other still had his back, but Jeremiah knew James's loyalty would be with his family first. He'd see it in the man's eyes that were always so chilly, just like after he returned with the war. "You think you're better than me? Coming up with these little plans together with that girl? It's disgraceful and you need to tone it down."

Troy's gaze lowered, body turning taut at the insulting and degrading insults his father threw at him. Big Otto never made it a secret hat he was disgusted with him. That he loathed his own blood deep down. As much as his father had allowed him to be himself and do what he did best in this world. A world Troy fit in like no other and was build for it was still so suffocating. Troy was able to hunt, explore, learn about the dead, but his father and brother always tried to control him, more severely now that he'd grown up. Troy hated being talked to like this, but this was his father and he didn't want to disappoint him or fail this mission.

"I want to help. " Troy didn't know when he found his voice, but his response was calm and callous, "I want to help you defend our family's land. Just what you prepared us- me for. We don't surrender, even if we have to die fighting for it." With each passing word, Troy saw his father's boiling temper even out and stated, "it's family first. Always."

After the long and silent stare off, Jeremiah finally gave his son a brief nod and a hard questioning look: _how are the defenses?"_

Troy returns the silent inquire with a nod and opened his mouth.

Then… almost without a signal…. the events the two Otto members were waiting for happened. It happened very quickly.

-

Alicia shook, the adrenaline in her face still at an all time high. She didn't know who guided her to sit down, but at this point, she didn't care. Instead, she stared her bloody palms repeatedly going back and forth over her pants. She watched the red darken through the thick fabric and shut her eyes. There were people around her, but the sounds were muffled and so very far away. Having the luxury of being alone with her thoughts made her mind wander and she squeezed her upper legs tight, until the blood in her fingers pumped. Agitated, her eyes shifted to the infirmary tent and she caught a glimpse of the corpse still dead on the ground.

An infected. One of their own was bit during the chaos and had turned. While the militia was busy defending the front, she and Cristine were operating on Kathy. Hailey was taking blood from Jack for the transfusion and then- Alicia inhaled and her vision became glazed with a glassy layer. The moment she felt the tears threaten to flow down her bloody cheek, she pressed the side of her ace into her shoulder. She had no right to cry and didn't think it would still hurt to have to put an infected down. Alicia didn't think she'd come to see this place as her own and these people, as weak and naïve as they were, one of hers. It was barely a week and a half since they arrived her, but in truth it felt much longer.

"-cia?" Tightening her gaze, Alicia jerked at the person crouching down in front of her and grasping her hands to clean them. Staring at the pale hands shakily wiping the red from her palms, Alicia her teary gaze met with those of Hailey's. Drenched in sweat and gore, her heart still pumping with the burden of having fruitlessly only being able to save her friend's life, Alicia found her voice.

"Are you okay Hailey?"

"You saved my life back there. I froze and- it- it all happened so fast." The anxious guilt and confusion in Hailey's baby blue eyes was apparent. "Because of that Jack's-"

"No." Alicia squeezed Hailey's hands when tears streamed down the latter's face and drizzled from her chin. The older teen's jaw shook as she tried to muffle her wail while the magnitude of the situation swept over her. "It's not on you. Jack jumped between you and that infected and saved you."

"He got bit because of me! I should've taken my gun.. but I don't know- I- I froze. It all happened so fast and now Kathy and her baby have to make it without a husband or a father."

"That's still not on you." Alicia gritted her teeth so hard her jaw throbs from crying in sync with Hailey. "Once the anesthetic wears down and Kathy's awake, they'll have time to say goodbye." She watched Hailey shut her eyes and roll her neck from side t side, and reopened them again. Her long lashes were with tears, but her comforting words were taken to heart. Alicia didn't relax and instead trailed her eyes to inside of the tent. She saw Cristine, unperturbed, walk with the tiny bundle over to a cuffed Jack and showed her his baby girl.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter broke my heart. For several reasons, but I hope ya'll still enjoyed it! 


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!!

Cristine spent several minutes watching the sobbing Kathy. The mother cradled her newborn daughter against her breast while Jack coed soft and encouraging words at her side. A chunk of his long sleeved shirt was torn off and covered by a bandage that colored red. Deciding to keep the two some privacy for the time being and some fresh air, Cristine abruptly left the tent to come to herself. On her way out, she passed the white linen covered body on the floor. A single red dot smudged the center of the protruding head. She ignored it and tried to catch her breath and push down the tingling sensation under her nails and skin. Her stomach coiled at the idea of this tragedy and panic seized her senses, but she bit the inside of her _cheeks hard,_ forced herself to push this down the same way she'd eventually done in the cabin and thought of the conversation she and Troy had in confidence yesterday.

_"It's what I'm meant to do, just like you're meant to bring a baby into this world." _And she did. She brought a baby in a world where death was better than this hell. Cristine knew how to be a realist, hope was all fine and dandy, but there was always despair lurking at the corner.

"It's bullshit." She whispered under her breath, ignoring the thought that had to be a product of her sadness over this tragedy with Jack, she began to weave her own idea over this sudden attack. Someone fucked with their carefully crafted plans. Before she could even second guess her intentions she went to her and her family's camper in search for her father.

"What do you mean you're leaving?" Cristine paused near the half-open door when she heard her father's stern question and peeked through the door. The silhouette of Vernon occasionally clear for her to see.

"I need to think of my family. You should do the same James," Vernon's response was as equally unbending and from the tone of it seemed to have made up his mind. Cristine's focused glower hardened, but she didn't want to interrupt the two men. There was this weird vibe between the Founding Fathers, her father had gotten colder, Vernon anxious, and even Jeremiah was less sure and ready as before.

"We dealt with the infected-"

"We lost one of our own and Jack was bit! Nowhere is safe!" The hiss was biting, it's acidity startling. "Listen, you know I love this place. I love what the five of us have set up for ourselves and our families. A place we could be safe and free, but a man's family comes first. And best I know is to leave and whoever is willing."

It was silent for a while before James asked, "what about Jeremiah?"

"He's unstable. I haven't seen him sober ever since we found out it was Walker who was behind the helicopter attack and Phil. I'm not going to wait until they do what they did to our people. We're already here and we _can all_ go_. _Protect each other and-"

"-and abandon our dear friend who we've know and supported for 30 years. When he needed us most… where's that bravery of then Vern?"

"Bravery? That's what you call what we did?"

"We helped Otto defend his land and protect his two little boys and his wife, god rest her soul, against trespasser. He was in his right." Cristine felt her throat tighten and thought back at the sullen conversation she and her father had. She said she wasn't going to look at her father at her like he was a monster. She didn't care about what he did, but he hadn't explicitly told her what he and apparently the other Founding Fathers had done. She just wanted her family… her people and the Ranch to be safe.

"Violence begets violence. It's just starting and I won't be here for the end of it."

"And you think outside is any better? Rapists, pillagers and that's not even talking about the dead outnumbering us a thousand to one. You'll die and your family will die t-" Cristine jumped into action when she heard a beating sound and the grunt of his father and Vernon. She jerked the door wide open and wide eyed watched the scene of Vernon hovering above her father's collapsed body with his arm raised high in the air.

"Daddy! Vernon get the hell off of him!?" Cristine grabbed the older man by the back and slipped on hand underneath his shoulder and her other arm going over the top other shoulder. With the one on top she hooked it around his neck, and with her supporting hand covered the other to hold him into a lock and tried to pull him into the side with her weight. "What the hell is wrong with you?!" Cristine grunted by the struggle Vernon put up. It was only when she heard her father's demand to let his friend go that she did.

James moved his jaw from left to right and wiped the blood that streamed down from his cut lips with the back of his clothing. He glowered at Vernon and his fists shook, but Cristine stepped in between him to do anything stupid and looked up at his fiery bright blue eyes. "You need to stop daddy." James briefly froze, her eyes as hard and as unforgiving as his. But the way she lightly shook her head, silently begging him not to make this any worse lessened the rage, hurt and betrayal James felt. His expression changed until he breathed out sharply and nodded.

"If you're going to leave Vern," James looked over Cristine's shoulder and said bitingly, "the least you can do is say it to Jeremiah in person. We have gas to spare to make the trip back and forth.

-

To Troy it feels like an excruciatingly slow time for his body to cross one of their stakeouts. Bullets skid across his feet the moment he got out of his house. He hides into the shadows of the closest iron shields. The pants coming from his mouth deep, ragged and he clicked his walky-talky to ask, "Joe how many can you spot?" The radio crackles and the static voice of Joe responds, "they're split in groups of two, I count ten each. Hiding at elevation behind the rocks, the blind spots."

"If they just tried to snip me down, they did a shit job. I'm still alive! Joe keep watch and when one of them sets foot through the gates and miraculously avoids any of the mines you blow their brains out."

"Roger that boss." Troy felt his lips tug up, the adrenaline thrill making him giddy. Checking his riffle and magazine clips, he breathed a few okay's under his breath. The bullet shots ring out just as Troy sprinted to the best potion, emptying his magazine in the few feet to cross another hurdle inside one of the trenches they dug up. Dirt exploded from the filled bags and Troy skulked near the baby he and the guys perfectly set up for occasions like this. It took a hell of a task to bring this beast back with them to the Ranch from the military base. But they did and it was mounted and camouflaged with the environment.

The M61 Vulcan. A hydraulically, gas driven, six-barrel, air-cooled, automatically fired Gatling-style rotary canon that fired 6000 20mm rounds per minute. And it was his to control. Troy was in awe and drunk with this skilled craftsmanship. It was a sight to behold and the young leader checked the controls and handles before clamping his hands around the trigger of this automatic canon.

The first explosion rings in his ears, signaling the enemy entering from the only entrance. The blast reverberated through the air and the agonizing screams that follow are like music to Troy's ears. Sweat drenched through his heavy clothes and Troy rammed one of the leverages of the cannon and looks through the scope first if he can see the bodies of the enemy in the distance of the gates. He sees nothing, but his fighting instincts tell Troy to shoot and ask questions later lest his home be taken from him, so he does.

The iron, automatic beast that more than 6000 rounds shatters the air and chews through the air. For Troy Otto, the next few minutes beautifully pass like a dream. He hears more explosions surrounding him, bullets sizzling through, the red sparks of light appear and disappear like rapid fireflies deeper in the shadows of where the enemy was. Troy has no idea how long he was shooting, but the click of the first ammunition round snapped him from his dream. Rolling his tongue over his upper teeth, Troy quickly switched back to the next steps of their plan.

"Joe, status report." Troy jerked his unclipped his portable radio from his pants and pressed his back into the dirt wall. He took a few second for the silence to settle in and repeated the question, "Joe- what do you see? Were Jimmy and the others able to flank them from the sides?" Troy risks peering over the edge of his personal hideout to get a better view of the scene, but it was too dark to make out. Through the dark blue he squinted his eyes, but he didn't see anything but the heaps of what he guessed where mangled bodies on the ground.

Right then, Troy hears the crackle of the radio and expected Joe's report, but his heart thundered in his chest and that thing he just quenched just now roared back to life. "Stand down Troy," Jake coolly ordered from the other side of the line and the confusion in Troy's face fogged his mind. Did the Nation attack their camp first and Jake was the only survivor left to-

"Troy, I'm at the Black Hat reservation to negotiate. Walker and his men retreated. I'm fine and unharmed."

Troy let the words register. His mind ran a hundred miles per hour. Walker probably held under gunpoint and rule them out. It didn't make sense, cause Walker wanted him and his family dead, so why keep Jake alive. This man scalped Phil but let Jake live? But this was his brother. "Trust me, brother. I know what I'm doing. I went here willingly."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long time! But the plot thickens!! What do you guys think so far?


	30. Chapter 30

"I'm sorry about Vernon." Cristine murmured while cleaning her father's cut lip. "But it's his choice and if he chooses what's out there over here, that's the end of it daddy. You need to let it go."

"I know that… I thought this would strengthen the community not fracture it." James didn't look at his daughter, but at the ceiling. He didn't even flinch when she dabbed the septic against the cut to clean it. "It's hard to hear your friend of 30 years just run away like a coward." He sucked in a shaky breath thinking of the betrayal of someone he though his close friend. He decided to shift his thoughts to something else and gently brought up the other bitter news of their community. "I heard about what happened in the infirmary."

"Jack saved Hailey's life… all our lives. Hailey and Alicia are still a bit shaken up and Jack's- he's spending his last moments with his wife and newborn daughter." James finally looked at his daughter, but wasn't that surprised to see the callousness within her hardened and tense features. It seemed to be a permanent facial expression for her lately. As if shedding a tear or sharing her personal grievances would be selfish. James his heart ached seeing her like this. Cristine was the one with the biggest heart. She was just an expert at shutting down her feelings when it mattered. Which didn't mean that it didn't hurt her or that she cared less. She cared more than most.

"How are you feeling Birdie?" Dark brown flickered and the twitch of her lips was the only sign that Cristine was suppressing her emotions. James softly continue, "it's alright to grieve-"

Cristine cut him off with a straightforward question, "how did the dead enter the camp daddy?"

James didn't miss a beat responding with an equal directness, "the militia hadn't reported a lot of activity from the dead coming north so we wanted to cover more ground. We split in smaller groups to-"

"Why?" Cristine cut him off a second time and removed the wet cloth from her father's lips. She was searching for her words from the way her facial expression shifted. The dent inside her brows pull together. Trying to make sense of his words and not coming to a logical conclusion. Cristine looked at her lap in thought before her eyes landed on him. "We have contingency plans in place for situations like this. It wasn't necessary to thin the militia out… the plans are here to make sure we get ready for evacuation. We don't engage with living _or_ dead. We survive." Cristine squeezed the words through mouth as if they burned on her tongue. "We _lost_ two of our own today," Cristine emphasized. "So I'll ask you again dad. How did the dead enter the camp?" Cristine tilted her head and there was a flicker of remorse in those blue eyes. 

"You're still riled up from before Bird-"

"Don't." Cristine sneered, the words sounded patronizing through her ears. "Don't treat me like a weak little girl. I'm not your weak little Birdie. You never allowed me to be that, so don't start now. Not after what you allowed all those years." James sucked in a harsh breath at the severe words, like acid on his skin and a strong scratching over his heart.

"..." The fact that her father didn't have his response ready told Cristine more than enough. She saw his grimace when he grinded his molars and looked away. But doing that did little to distract James from Cristine's accusatory question.

"For the same reason you and Troy torture that man for answers." James clarified with a narrowing gaze. Cristine shook her head in slight disbelief and scoffed. The subtle tics of her father's eye twitching and roll of the tongue over his lips more noticeable to her.

"I didn't put our people in danger and got two of ours killed in the process because my feelings got hurt." Cristine hissed under her voice and jerked her arm from her father's strong grip, wincing at the force he put behind when he grabbed it. "You lost a fucking friend so what?! The world is gone to shit and the stakes are much higher than that."

"Watch your mouth," James didn't like the tune of his daughter. His nostrils flared, "you know more follow Vernon?" He asked incredulously as if he heard a bad joke. "For all we know Walker has men waiting to ambush us and we're more divided than ever. What we need is to placate the Trimbols and the sheep that want to follow him to their deaths."

"How does that justify putting our people's lives- the camp at risk to make a point when it didn't even lead to the desired outcome?" Cristine paced through the camper and the anger made her eyes misty, but she refused to shed a tear. She didn't deserve to cry when a wife and child just lost their husband and father in the span of minutes. She had her family, she was alive and the luxury. She wasn't going to be selfish and cry.

James gave his daughter a complicated look. "I told you not to interfere and focus on your duties as our medic. This is my business to take manage and I make the calls."

Now Cristine was getting annoyed with her father and his high strung attitude. Normally, she would let it slide. But her father was treating her like some ignorant child! He had no right to do that now of all times. To care and pamper her when he never properly did that during her childhood. He just got two of their own killed and didn’t even feel bad about it. "I don't know what the bad blood between you and-"

"Exactly Cristine, you don't know!" James yelled at his daughter, "don't mistake your place in all of this. This business is mine and the Founding Fathers to handle."

"Why? Cause you did something bad before the apocalypse and don't want us to know? Who did you kill daddy?" Cristine saw her father's face turn ashen, then green and red. But she didn't stop and cause her father was being a hypocrite. "Cause that is the only reasonable explanation I have for this- this hell we're all in. What're you so afraid off? You feel guilty because what you did is coming back to haunt you?"

"You don't know what the hell you're talking about," James snapped.

Cristine narrowed her gaze, voice low and cold, "I do. I killed people and you judged me for that like some hypocrite when I needed you. But I'm not going to wallow in self-pity and whine about it. The past is of the old world and the old world is dead." Exhaling deeply to take a pause, Cristine added, "I know you're trying to atone by treating me like I'm Hailey, but I'm not. I will _never_ be Hailey daddy and with the world as it is, I'm grateful I'm not. Else I wouldn't be able to cross the state to find you after you left me without a word." Cristine would always miss the idea of healthy childhood she never had. But she learned from a very tender age that people were cruel, even if they were kin. The only exception was Hailey. A childhood where she was despised and neglected by her stepmother. Where her father acted as if the abuse and drunk outrage never happened. He made it up with gifts and trips, but he never talked to her about it. He never once acknowledged it. They had their tender moments yes, but they never spoke about the reality. And the reality was that deep down there was hurt, pain and resentment. Her father tiptoed around those cropped up feelings and Cristine did too. To keep the peace. But not anymore. Not when this could be someone's final day on the earth. One of theirs.

"I have to make it up to you. I-I have to somehow." James sniffed and looked away but she didn't miss the tear rolling from his eyes. "I didn't keep your mother's promise… I said I'd protect you and I didn't. Not even under my own roof. God I-"

"You can keep mom's promise by getting to know me. The _real_ me. Not this fantasy you have of me and you lying to me." Cristine raised her chin and forced the words from her mouth, "that won't keep us alive."

The conversation made Cristine feel lighter the moment she stepped back outside. Inhaling to get air into her lungs, her breath visible in the chilled evening air Cristine gently rubs at her arm. With the uncanny feeling of being watched, she looked in the general direction where the person stood and her breath hitched just that little bit. The muscle between her eyebrows pulled taut. Her stomach dropped and her heart raced by the eyes peering back. She couldn't see them clearly, but she imagined their severity. He must've been walking around camp looking for someone, spotted her during his stride and stopped. The way he just stood there, watching her cautiously and not moving an inch. His tall figure elicited a dry gulp from Cristine and a chill crept up her spine. It summoned the bad omens to come.

Troy.

-  
  


"There we too many dead between us. Jake said he'd take the long way back to camp and told us to wait near the west trail," Madison explained. She and Nick arrived simultaneously with Troy. Both bore the ill news of Jake's disappearance and reappearance at the Nation's campsite. "We had contact for a while and then we didn't. Last thing he said that there needed to be another way. We didn't know what he meant, but we wanted to go out and look for him. We couldn't." Madison eyed her audience one by one until her gaze landed on Troy.

"Jake went to Black Hat reservation to negotiate with Walker. They probably have him scalped by now." Troy's tune was callous, his irritation at an all time high. "What happened here anyway? Was it the Nation?"

"No," James answered with a shake of the head and Cristine briefly lowered her gaze to look at the floor. "Infected managed to slip inside. We wanted to cover more ground to be sure... we lost two of ours: Jack and Theo."

"Shit," Troy raked his hand through the top of his curls and chewed on his lips. "Well Waker's men attacked the Ranch and with our manpower we would've easily won, until Jake pulled this stunt. Should've known he wouldn't be able to get right with this." Troy distracted himself while wringing with his hand and the light dip of his shoulder and dark circles under his eyes told the story of the weariness catching up on him and his body. "We pack up and go back home. Regroup until we hear more from Jake."

"And Vernon?" Madison asked and it was Cristine who did a double take. A short glance between the mother and her father angering her. Stretching her body and raising her chin she asked, "what about Vernon?" Madison looked at Cristine from the corner of the eye, her silence while calculated, didn't convince her that the mother was all that unaware. Madison was like a shadow present at the right moments, with the right information to use to her advantage. As menial as it was.

"The Trimbols are leaving with a few. Theo and Jack and now news of Jake only convinced them it's safer elsewhere. They plan to go for elevation."

"What kind of bullshit is that?" Troy piped up, voice that slightest bit pitched. The hurt and betrayal in his claim lodged in there. "We're sticking our necks out while they're in a safe zone and they're still going to run?! Tell me you're not okay with this?"

James shook his head, vexed and with a click of the tongue answered, "no I'm not, but it's out of my hands son. They made their choice and I'll respect that. Best we pack and return with the ones still willing to do what's right." Troy wanted to reply, but at the last moment didn't and pressed his lips into a thin line. The flex pulled his face taut and his anger dissolved into nothing. He then wordlessly left the tent in a strong stride and Cristine watched his figure fade into the night all by himself.

-  
  


Cristine flipped her blade back and forth, sucked in her breath and tilted her head back to look at the ceiling of the infirmary tent. The blade felt heavy inside her hand and the anesthetics were still so fresh. The urge to vomit, yell and cry. All those reflexive signals crawling up her body she buried them. She needed to focus. This wasn't about her. None of this was and like Alicia said everyone needed to do their part. Clenching the hilt tightly between her hands, until it hurt, Cristine exhaled once again. The pain managed to clear up her mind and made it a lot easier to push down her hesitance.

"You don't have to do this." Cristine looked in the corners of her eyes at Alicia and showed the brief grimace from her lips. "It doesn't _have_ to be you who-"

"It does," Cristine cut the younger girl off with a light shake of the head, numbed to the idea of taking on this responsibility. "It needs to be me. Jack asked me to. Least I can do is do right by him. Besides, it's not the first time I had to put down my own people." Alicia clearly wanted to say more, but hearing how adamant and calm Cristine was under this pressure evened out her protest. She didn't seem to think it was fair anyone would ask this of another person. But this was the reality of their world now.

"I should've known..." Alicia began softly with a downward gaze before shrugging with a cynical smile and shake of the head. "About Jake. One of the last things he said to me that he wished we could have a place where our community would be safe for the Kathy's and their babies." The young woman's shoulders dropped. An invisible weight making her appear more exhausted.

"If it wasn't for you." Misty blue eyes flicker up when Cristine stated factually, "if you didn't pull me out of my panic, we could have lost a whole family. You protected Kathy, me, the baby. It can be hard, but you're strong Ali-"

"Cristine." The tender moment between the two was interrupted by the flap of the curtains getting pulled open by Blake. He paused. Looked between the two and seemed to realize his disruption, but eventually urged in a rushed voice, "it's time."  
  


Sickly pale. Haggard skin and the feverish shivers that excreted sweat that drenched through his clothes. In just two hours, Jack's condition deteriorated so quickly it was shocking to see how weak he was. Both his wrists were cuffed against the iron handles of the medical bed. White curtains enclosed him from the outside world and Cristine gulped.

"His voice was scratchy and weak. "Didn't... think you had it in ya kid." The usual sternness inside his eyes was present even in his severely weakened state. "You brought my baby girl into this world."

"I said I would." Cristine tried to make this as easy as she could, but she couldn't keep the forced smile on her face. This was never easy no matter how often she had to do it. And knowing it was her father who indirectly caused this only added more to her guilt. No one could know and she'd carry this vile secret to the grave. Even if she somehow did the 'right' thing. What use was it to cause a panic? Jack was still dying and the community still remained fractured. Consciously keeping this secret was perhaps worse. Especially watching Jack and spending his final moments with him

"Yes.. yes you did." Jack sighed and even that seemed to cause him discomfort. He stopped, swallows hard, watery eyes look into the dark coal eyes of the young woman who brought his baby into this world and also ended the one of his infected son. It was ironic and a twisted play of fate. "First I heard what you did to our little Cam I was livid. I didn't- didn't understand and I wanted you gone. Dead. Took me and Kathy a long time to come to terms with how things are now. Especially her... but now." Jack winced and took a sip from the water Cristine gave him to ease his parched throat. It didn't help, it still felt as if a fire lit his throat. "Now I know this world won't get better and we... our people aren't really prepared. Most aren't like you." Jack suddenly reached for her hand with as much strength he could muster and Cristine felt the surprisingly strong grip. She flicked her gaze from his squeezing hand and then Jack's severe eyes. "I- I need you to look after Kathy and my babygirl. I need to be sure they're taken care of. They won't make it on their own."

"We're a community Jack. We take care of our own. We'll take care of Kathy and... I didn't even ask what name you gave her." Jack dry heaved and it felt as if with each second his bodily functions just weakened and given her background as an disease specialist, Cristine knew exactly what was happening. Jack was suffering. She wiped a coat of sweat from his forehead and waited for his answer.

"We called her Christine.. with an H after the C, so we'd know the difference." Cristine visibly froze, like a deer caught in headlights. The answer was not one she expected and she didn't know how to feel. Her heart was full, her stomach lurched and she blinked rather quickly to push back the hot pressure lodge behind her eyes. The short smile of disbelief on her face a mixture of pain and guilt and Cristine hurriedly sniffed.

"That'- that's a good name," she said light-hearted and the older man chuckled, before shivering from the chill. "You got taste Jack."

"I knew you'd like it." Jack's body relaxed and his breathing slowed and sounded louder. Grinding his teeth he gestured at the cover of her blade resting near her right hip. "I think it's time Cristine. I can feel it in my bones."

Cristine bobbed her head down and reached for the bottle of morphine on the side table and Jack's eyes curiously followed her hand. "To ease the pain. You won't feel a thing. You'll fall asleep and then-"

"Then you'll... you'll put me... to rest." His breaths were labored and his eyes half lidded. Jack was exhausted and not just because of the effects of the infection. "M-maybe.. maybe this is better... I'm .. I'm going to meet our Cam, Kathy... meet our champ." Cristine gently stroked Jack's head and with a small smile administered the anesthetic inside his vein and watched it take effect almost immediately. She then took the blade, tightened her grip on the hill after she turned Jack's head to the side to reveal his nape and slid the blade into the softest spot of his nape that connected to his spinal cord and the brain. The slick sound made her grimace and she watched the blood spill from the wound, onto the metal and cot.

It was done.


	31. - Cristine & Madison -

During the time Madison and her family had been on the Ranch, Cristine silently took note of the women's looming presence. At first, she detected little thing: the way she did her chores and socialized with the people to find her place and integrate with their community. It wasn't after the outpost that she noticed Madison change her shadowing tactics around. She was there when they talked about their defense plans, put her two cents in, which proved her experience with the outside world and her practicality. The woman knew what she was talking about, but it never sat right with Cristine that her father took her words into so much consideration. Maybe it was because of Jeremiah's lack of fight or Vernon's cowardice that pushed him to the mother that would do anything for her children, but Cristine didn't like it one bit. She told Madison to stay away from her father and out of whatever shady and selfish plans she had for her and her family's self-preservation.

"You need help with that?" Madison asked and gestured at the stacked supply boxes with medicinal supplies. The smile on her lips brief and she didn't wait for Cristine to answer and went through her knees and help sort the last supplies. Cristine looked around saw everyone busy packing right now and sighed at her luck.

"Alicia told me about the birth of our youngest member." Cristine went through her hunches too and grunted her answer. "You did good."

"I did my job," Cristine answered curtly, clearly signaling she wasn't in the mood for a conversation about her. "Alicia is the real hero. How is she holding on with Jake leaving? She won't admit it, but she has a soft spot for him."

"She's strong and Jake's been checking in with us every couple of hours. Seems Walker is taking negotiations seriously." Madison handed Cristine the medicine box and peeked from the corner of her eyes. "It's not ideal, but Jake his heart is in the right place."

"He put us at risk going off like that… it put everyone on sharp." Cristine slightly scrunched her brows together and pushed her tongue against the inside of her teeth and rather bluntly remarked, "you seem to take it well though. I mean even my father trusts you." Cristine looked at Madison and didn't flinch when those narrowed blue eyes peered straight back at her. She wasn't the only one watching the other's moves and Cristine found it rather insulting Madison wouldn't stay back.

"We're both parents who want the best for their families." Madison did want to talk to Cristine; alone. Without her children or Cristine's family present. Just a conversation between the two of them. She watched the younger mockingly shake her head with a quick chortle, probably finding the answer a fabrication. "You don't have to like me Cristine and what I do, but if you were in my situation you'd do the same. You don't know me."

"Hm," Cristine hummed absently and agreed with her stance. "I would and that's exactly why I don't trust you. You've been here for a week. Something just tells me you don't get attached too easily even if I did try and get to know you. So this bond with my father and all that… it's bullshit. You just care how you can use his… authority and influence cause neither Jeremiah and Vernon want or can do what he does."

"Your father made that call. You should take your grievances with him."

"Did he come with these sudden decisions before or after you 'bonded' as parents?" Madison was worse than Dolores. While her stepmother had always been more direct and forward with her words, Madison was a manipulator and worked in the shades. An effective trait as a guidance counselor, but after a while Cristine saw through it and found it boring. "You need to play chess with the Otto's and leave me and my family out of it."

Madison sighed and quickly organized the last first aid kits, tools and medicines in the box. She occupied her mind by finishing that little task and "We want the same thing; safety. Your father wants that too and he's doing it in the only way a parent knows. By being overprotective." And that was Madison her truth. If she needed to suffocate her children with her love, she would and no one would stop her. She wanted to integrate and she wasn't lying when she could better connect with Jeremiah and James through parenthood. Jeremiah had opened about his abusive streaks, his late second wife and Troy. James was doing that now with him and mostly Cristine. It was just now that the situation between the Founding Fathers had become so fractured. James being the only one to let his actions speak for himself, lead, and do what needed to be done to protect them that she lined beside the man. James share personal grievances with her and Madison remembered those. The sensitive dynamic with his eldest daughter was the puzzle that didn't quite fit within the Gerrard family. So if Madison could use that to her advantage at one point, Madison definitely would.

Cristine's didn't miss the intentional jab Madison made shook her head to stop the woman right there, "I'm not a child, definitely _not_ yours, so you need to watch your mouth and your place." Rubbing her finger under her chin, Cristine held the equally cold and unblinking blue hues of Madison. "When you first introduced yourself during the service, I admired how you went about it. With care and precision. You read the room and let the people sympathize with you. That's admirable. Hell, I think if I met you from the very start of this, we could've been a great team. But I don't know you and you _think_ you know me from what my dad probably told you. It must be hard. To always worry if your kids are safe and protect them from the world even if it means doing the absolute worst." She kept looking at the mother of the two and flashed a dimpled smile that wasn't quite one. "I don't think I want children," she confessed while rolling her palms over her denim pants. "It'd be too much of a pain. Too big of a burden." Cristine curiously asked her a question, "what's it like to give birth? Is it as horrible as I imagine?"

Madison looked back at the younger woman, brows slightly arched when her lips relaxed, "the first is the hardest. You don't know the type of pain there will be. You don't know if there will be any potential complications." There was a faint smile on her lips now, as if remembering the birth of her children, and just that memory made her glower at Cristine when she shared it. "But in that moment when you know and see that tiny thing out into the world, you know you would die for it. At one point you change and you don't even realize it. You're able to do all sorts of things if it means they're safe from people that want to hurt them."

Cristine understood that. Family was family. And while she wouldn't have those same mother bear instincts, she would kill for her loved ones_. Had _killed for them when she was out usually, tortured a man. So yes, she would give Madison that. But that didn't mean she was blind to everything else and the nagging feeling at the scalp of her head. "I get that. Truly, I do… but you need to understand why I'm wary. Why I want you to stay away… because you'd do all of that just for your children. At the expense of others and not give a shit and I actually do give a shit about this community and these people. We're not pawns to keep your children safe."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but I really needed to do this to remind ya'll that yes, Madison is still being her shady self and manipulating people from the shadows. Hence Cristine her distrust towards her, especially cause it involves her father. Expect another chapter to drop soon, cause I've been on a roll. Also, don't fret Troy will appear soon enough


	32. Chapter 32

Blake watched Cristine wash her hands and clean her knife. She hadn't said much after putting Jack down. Hadn't said much to him about anything really. With everything fucked and them at a disadvantage cause of Jake's stunt to open a parley with the Nation, they were packing. There was also division in camp between who wanted to flee or stay. Shifting on his feet with purpose, making his boots scrape over the dusty ground, Blake tried to garner Cristine's attention with sound. Why was there this sudden... wall between them?

"What do you think will happen?" Blake asked.

Cristine paused, but didn't turn. She simply rubbed the back of her head, stretched her neck muscles and sighed. "We go back to the Ranch. Regroup. Wait for news from Jake. Nothing else we can do." After cleaning, she laid the knife back inside the leather casing and crossed the area where some medical supplies were and silently began to put them away.

"That's it?" Blake asked, confused by her lack of reaction. "You're not pissed about this? The plan got fucked, our people are divided, and some are leaving. Vernon was clearly using all of this as a chance to cause problems and pull people to his side. It leaves us more vulnerable with a quarter running away. Mike can't even pick up his balls like a man and talk to anyone."

"Well we can't stop them and they won't change their minds." Cristine dropped one of the scalpels back onto the trays and shrugged with vexation. She then raked her fingers through her curls and added, "a lot of stuff is already fucked by people doing whatever the hell they want. Two of us died as a result of that."

"We couldn't have known Cristine-"

"Cut the bullshit Blake!" Cristine's accusation was sharp and she finally turned to look at him. Her mouth was pulled back, her eyes glowed angrily and the suppressed anger rolled from her body in waves. She shook her head and a cynical smile crept on her full lips, "thinning out the militia to cover more ground. Really? Purposely leaving the blinds pots and the camp exposed like that? What the hell were you thinking? Going along with my dad and his bullshit idea?" Blue-eyes wide, body tensing and breath stuck in his throat. Cristine didn't give him time to recover cause she was in his face before he knew it. She saw him swallow and waited for him to say something, anything that justified putting them in danger. "Yeah, I know."

Blake sucked his lips in and looked at the space between them for a few seconds, unable to keep eye contact with her. His and Cristine's friendship was build on blunt truth. No matter the grouch she could be, they could actually be honest with the other. Inhaling his face went tight, a combination of grim determination and doggedness. "I followed orders Cristine."

"Yeah?" Her question was more mocking than needing an actual answer. Cristine expected a bullshit response and she shook her head from side to side, disappointed with Blake. "The classic Nuremberg defense… Don't be so predictable and hide behind a rationalization you know doesn't hold value."

"For you maybe." Blake's answered defensively, his eyes sharpening with his tune. The cryptic and judgmental jab raised his defenses. He wasn't going to apologize for doing his job or look back and regret it. "For the militia it does. You think there wouldn't be any sacrifices once we started all this?"

"Don't patronize me, I know what's at stake. But there need to be lines we don't cross. Risking our people? Kathy and Jack-" Bringing up the subject was still fresh and raw so Cristine didn't finish her sentence. She didn't think she had to given the guilty responses from Blake.

Blake couldn't believe his ears and hissed Cristine's hypocrisy back in her face, "you didn't mind us crossing those lines once you fully integrated. The experiments. Theories based on your research and notes. Did you think about those lines when you and Troy tortured the enemy for intel? A kill is still a kill Cristine. Even if you didn't pull the trigger yourself. Don't get on your high horse because of your unresolved daddy issues." Cristine slammed her hands into Blake's chest and the later slightly stepped back from the force she put behind that push. Unsatisfied, Cristine pushed him a few more times as rough as she could, until Blake had enough and grabbed her by the wrist to stop her.

"Hate me all you want. Call me all kinds of assholes and cuss me, but you would've done the exact same thing if you were in my place. To keep us from being at a disadvantage and vulnerable."

"Not like this." Her breaths were labored from being winded and some of her curls sprawled over her forehead from the way she thrashed during her outburst.

Blake asked her an earnest question, "So now what? You'll knock on Kathy's door worried about keeping her newborn safe and tell her it was your dad's fault her husband's dead?" Her anger dwindled ever so lightly and Blake snapped in a low tune that told her that she wouldn't, "didn't think so."

Before Cristine could retort and say something she would ultimately regret and ruin her and Blake's friendship, their argument got cut short by the confused voice, "Cristine?" Her head snapped up as she saw her sister in the entryway of the tent. Hailey stood tensed on her spot, like a spying kid who just got caught witnessing something she wasn't supposed to. She hesitated, narrowed eyes plastered judgingly on Blake and the way he held her sister.

Cristine spotted her baby sister's red, puffy eyes. Wringing herself from Blake's grip, she crossed the distance with a deep seated frown and touched her slender shoulders, voice worried and soft, "what is it? Are you hurt?" A sharpness cut in her chest at the meek sight and Cristine spread her other arm to pull her sister in for a comforting hug.

"N-No. Troy and Mike are getting into it," she breathed, glancing over her shoulder with bitter worry and sniffed. "It's looking bad. Troy's out of control." Cristine didn't immediately move for a second and didn't reject or affirm her sister's indirect insinuation. A strained smile, one that made it seem as if she suffered from a toothache, followed by a slick comment. "The guys are just letting it happen. Maybe he'll listen to reason before shit hits the fan and Troy does something he can't come back from." Despite the heartache she went through, Cristine saw the no-nonsense glower in those glossy baby blue eyes.

Without sparing Blake a look, Cristine followed Hailey hot on her heels as the three sprinted in the direction of the commotion. A small crowd gathered near the few campervans parked and packed. Troy and Mike stood closest near his family's camper and the childhood friends were in a heated argument, at least Troy was. Mike was just standing there, refusing to answer Troy's taunts, which quickly turned ugly when Troy slammed his best friend into the side of the van to rile him up.

"-you think hauling ass when our people died for us is something a man does, huh?" The lack of response pissed Troy off even more, which only drove the hot coal behind his eyes to its next boiling point. Coupled with the way Mike never looked or talked to him since the outpost, his drunk father, Jake's petty stunt and his battle ruined, Troy saw red. "You owe it to this place and these people here. I'm going to give you a chance to say your piece."

Finally, a reaction when Mike raised his arms and aggressively pushed Troy away from him. It was the reaction Troy hoped for. To see his fury flare. But Mike's anger just resurfaced for a few seconds before it diminished. Why wasn't he responding in the way a best friend should? The way Troy did. With rage over the fact that one betrayed and quit on the other. Let their friendship mean nothing in times of peril. Even when he got pulled, Mike was always his only friend that had his back. It proved to Troy there were still people he could trust. But now, in times of peril and urgency, none of that seemed important to his best friend. Hell, Mike couldn't even talk to him. Clenching his fist, Troy had enough of talking and taunting him and a cynical smile, teeth bare, arched near the corners of his lips. "Okay. Seems you want to do this the hard way. That's fine." His voice was lower now, a bit more controlled, but still seething with anger that is now directed at Mike. "You're leaving the rest of us at a risk and I can't have that."

Mike asked, glower hot and his mouth pulled back into a sneer. "You gonna beat my ass for not stepping in line and dancing to your tune? We're free to go wherever the hell we want and take our stuff with us. Voluntary basis, remember?"

Troy shook his head, the grin from before almost nonexistent. He was the one that always protected the Ranch at any cost, but he was the problem?! Troy huffed and pointed a finger in the direction of the crowd, "fair enough. But Ranch property is Ranch property, not yours. Like the gas for example. We have rules and they are here for the members of our community. We abide by order, loyalty and discipline... something you seem to lack. Guess that's another thing your coward of a father didn't teach you." Troy jabbed into Mike's shoulder with a finger and stepped closer. Mike, however, wasn't falling for his taunts this time. Troy sneered over the fact that Mike wasn't even seeing his hypocrisy. They left them defenseless, weaker and treated the Ranch as a joke... a hobby that could just quit. This was his home!

"You gonna slit my throat in my sleep?" Mike's question clearly hit a nerve, pointing out what Troy almost did to Madison in her sleep for talking back to him. Flexing his fist, Troy struck like a cobra. He finally allowed his impulsive anger to get the best of him. He slammed his fist down on the side of Mike's face.

"Shit," Cristine cussed from the sidelines before she pushed her way through the crowd and began to dart towards the struggling friends, "Troy get the hell off of him!" She heard several footsteps behind her in her sprint.

Surprisingly, Nick joined the scene as one of the few voices of reason and planted himself between the two men. He twisted his arms and managed to loop it underneath the raging Troy's arm, dragging him away from Mike.  "That's enough man. You made your point." Nick did his best to create a safe distance between Troy and Mike. 

"Troy stand down," Cristine said hotly stepping in front of him, keenly aware her words wouldn’t hold much weight when it came to Troy's entitled behavior. Seeing his flaring nostrils and teeth bared, she was well aware of his anger masked at hurt, the scowl on his face deepened and the words directed at her prickly.

"This is none of your damn business Cristine and get the hell off of me Nick!" Troy began to thrash inside Nick's lock and used his length to writhe around. A few minutes of grunting and struggling, but Nick was surprisingly persistent even with Troy using his height to his advantage.

Meanwhile, Mike watched it all unfold unimpressed and that was the most he would let this situation bother him. Troy was spiraling out of control whether he liked to admit it or not. It started with petty stuff and with everything as it was now it was best to cut ties, same as his father did with his friends. Shifting on his feet, Mike's gaze connected with the large and concerned irises of Hailey. The way she had her arms wrapped around herself, protective yet closed off from her surroundings displayed her anxiousness. She worried for him. Gulping, Mike quickly looked elsewhere and wordlessly left this freak show. He ignored Troy yelling his name and labeling him all sorts of coward and less of a man.

Cristine put herself in front of the raving Troy again and pressed her hands into his shoulders and clawed her nails deeply into the fabric of his uniform. The sharp grip very quickly distracted Troy, drawing his attention away from Mike onto her. Blue eyes, narrowed in a silent but focused glower. "This is not the time nor the place. Don't give the rest reason to make up their minds because you can't keep your cool." The glower of surprise then annoyance that spread across Troy's face registered through his mind and he quickly glanced at the audience. A dangerous inhale and exhale later and Troy shrugged out of Nick's grip with a jerk of his body. The younger man held up his hands in surrender, showing him he wasn't going to touch him again and wasn't looking for a fight.

"Alright, show's over!" Cristine addressed the spectators in a final tune and raised her chin. "We leave at dawn. For those who haven't pack, make sure you do. We leave early for home." She told them, ignoring the murmuring and nodded at Nick in silent thanks for helping her. Her eyes drifted over to Blake's tight expression, but she broke the contact immediately and bit the inside of her cheek hard. She stepped away from Troy and stalked back to wherever it was she could get peace and quiet from this hell of day. The rest of the crowd dispersed, a handful of familiar faces tried to follow her. The only one that ultimately didn't was the man she tried to calm down in that heated quarrel.


	33. Chapter 33

"That was just stupid! Why'd you get involved in their business?" Cristine just accepted the barrage of anger from her father. Hailey was helping her pack the last few medical supplies inside the infirmary.

"Same reason I got involved between you and Vernon. But whatever bonds you men." Cristine offhandedly commented.

"Don't get smart with me! This is serious." James pointed a finger at his daughter with unrestrained anger and licked his lower lip. Distress seemed to be their father's permanent mood since the attack. 

"Don't be angry with her daddy." Hailey cut in and addressed her irritated father, "I asked Cristine if she could be the voice of reason and help calm everyone down." 

James sighed heavily, the deep crease still present on his face. He was tired. Ashamed. Guilt. All the negative emotions weighed down on his chest and body. It felt as if he aged with each passing minute. The way he'd beg Vernon to stah, but that little stunt with Troy pushed him over the edge. It was unfortunate that his words didn't weigh as much as Jeremiah. And Jeremiah was just as stubborn and prideful. He wasn't going to beg. Hell, Otto would rather the Ranch be without people to defend it and have it burned down than fight for a thirty year long brotherhood. The Founding Fathers dwindled with the death of Russel and Phil. And now Vernon. Maybe he should've accepted that drink from Otto senior the day before they left. A curt look at Cristine and James suddenly imagined the mirage of his first wife and that idea washed down the drain.

"You two behave, I'm going to talk to Dolores."

"Remember to count to ten daddy." Hailey and Cristine said in sync when their father left them with a quick wave. The two sisters then looked at each other before a snort and pitched giggle filled the infirmary room. The chuckle soon turned into a sob and the tears began to fall down the youngest Gerard sister. Hailey automatically went into her sister's arms and sniffed and wiped her tears on her shoulders. The quiver of her small body paired with her shaky hiccups stifled the air inside the room. Rubbing her back tenderly, Cristine's expression shifted into a thoughtful one. After comforting Hailey, she left for their camper and left Cristine to pack up the last things. Looking around, the brunette leaned against the edge of one of the portable beds and rubbed the back of her neck wearily. Whilst pondering over the dilemma of a quarter of their community breaking from them, her father's reckless stunt that two of them killed, and Jake in enemy territory, Cristine chewed on her lip and was so drowned in her thoughts, she barely registered the hesitant cough. Snapped out of her daze, Cristine whipped her head to see Troy standing near the entrance. The emotions on his face were almost nonexistent when he peered at her. 

"You alright?" The long silence was finally broken by her question.

"He's dead to me with every other coward that wants to run," Troy spat back, walked up to her and plopped right next on the cot. He looked down at the ground, at his stretched legs and boots. "I rounded up everyone who is still willing to fight for us," Troy explained and remembered Madison her encouraging words to help him. Whether she was trying to manipulate him or not didn't matter to him. Their interests aligned; protect their families. "We had the full advantage… this could've been over if it wasn't for Jake."

"I know," Cristine answered and scratched the top of her jeans. She wanted to whisper something positive, but couldn't think of a single thing. "Alicia thinks he did it so we all could live. In particular for the Kathy's of this world. Guess he thought about the Kathy's on the other side too." 

"He gave our advantage to the enemy on a silver platter. Walker's going to scalp him and send his head back to our doorstep. You weren't at the outpost Cristine… what he did to Phil. That's not a man who wants to negotiate. That's someone who scalps and burns people. Because he wants what we have. He still doesn't have the weapons or the manpower or he wouldn't have pulled his men back. He's bluffing at this point." Troy countered and stretched back to stand on his feet.

Cristine mirrored his actions and frowned in response to Troy's keen observation. "Well his bluff worked. People are still leaving despite it all. It still leaves us vulnerable. How long until the reet lose their motivation and there's no one left? If our numbers dwindle now, its not going to be much of a fight. You men and your stupid pride are going to get us all killed." Cristine chewed her lower lip again and with a growing exasperation wrung her hands together. 

"It's sticking to your principles. Most seemed to have forgotten that. Stealing shit from the Ranch and all," Troy bit back clearly annoyed. If walls, weapons, food, a militia and pantry wasn't enough for these cowards, then what use was asking them to stay. They didn't deserve this place, at all. They were dead people walking. 

"What the hell is sticking to your principles going to do when everything is gone? We'll starve and be left defenseless. Then, all Walker has to do is really walk through the gates this time cause we'll be too weak to retaliate." The twitch of his face showed Troy's annoyance. Cristine was making sense, said the right things, but there was no solution within her criticism. He wet his lips and slid his arms behind his hips, tilting his body and glowered at her.

"He's still using his chicken shit scare tactics. Like I said, he can only bluff. I have volunteers willing to leave their suicide note for the greater good. Any other suggestions?" Troy didn't care if he sounded hateful or accusing. He didn't care about anyone at this point. At least he did something compared to his brother and father. The people here needed to be guided and he'd take that burden upon himself.

"Scare tactics," Cristine blurted out the blue. Troy looked at her again, confused. The side of her face pointed down and instead of interrupting her thought patterns, Troy waited for her to concoct whatever plan it was that went through her mind. His eyes twitched. Spotting a mark on her cheek. It caught his attention and he wondered what had happened. Troy relaxed his hands and before his mind registered the action, he raised his arm and curiously pressed his thumb on top of the wound. 

Cristine tensed and jerked in reflex, whipping her head around and breaking contact. The way her eyes stretched and brows shot up comical. Her surprise switched to a wary confusion, but she didn't speak. Inky brown eyes cryptically make sense of his inquiry where she got this bruise from. Something inside Troy's gut confusingly stirred. Connvincing him Cristine was more restless than usual. Or maybe he was after these long and hectic two days, though he could easily pick apart the emotional shift around Cristine. But unlike before, he could see through her façade so easily. She was clearly anxious about something. 

Troy stated in a low murmur, "you're acting off and it's not about people leaving." Her eyes told him so. They glowed hot with emotion and betrayed the indifferent mask on her face. That quick switch from fiery hot to ice cold. Like a switch she turned on and off at will. The false front when she'd cross that shaky line of morality she clung on to for some reason and still seemed to make her sick to the stomach. The quick flutter of her eyes and her twisting her jaw from side to side. Troy was able to discern those subtle signals Cristine gave off. Signs he could spot from a mile and drew him closer, usually wanting more to uncover. Always in need to peel down the layers of her raw complexity and fascinating emotions. It was hard for Troy not to do that. He did it with Madison, but with Cristine it was always different. New, thrilling, and kept him on his toes. Cristine was worth probing. For some reason, Troy had the feeling the woman held the answers to questions his mind bore when he was by himself. 

He heard her inhale after asking, "what happened Cristine?" 

"It's handled," Cristine answered in a beat with a shake of the head, hoping that would appease Troy. She didn't even try to deny that something occurred. She just didn't want to tell him what it was. As expected, the answer didn't satisfy Troy at all and she felt his hand slip around her arm. His grip neither weak or firm. It was just right and she knew he wasn't going to let it go. Parting her lips, she found the right words to deliver the news, "I put down Jack before. He got bit by Theo." Her voice was steady, but the trace of disdain managed to slip through in a slightly cracked form. "It wasn't an accident… my dad he-" Cristine paused, so distracted from reciting the story Troy tugged at her arm a few times to coax her concentration and urged her to spill every detail. "-he ordered the militia to thin out on purpose so a few dead could get into the camp. The idea behind it was to show the militia's capability. Convince those talking about running they wouldn't make it without the community… that without our militia they'd die out there. It got out of hand."

Troy finished, "as a result Jack and Theo were the sacrifices and Jake went to beg for peace. It was a good plan, risky, but credits to your dad." Cristine chewed on her lip and looked away, angrily brushing aside the compliment. As if it was the most normal thing to use their own people as pawns. Having none of that, Troy repeatedly stepped in her line of sight until she gave up and looked at him again. In this moment, the rarity of her vulnerable side was clear and so captivating to him. Troy felt the urge to highlight the positive aspects of the situation. "Remember when you said it's not on me if people leave? It's not on you if people die Cristine. It's how the world is now. Your father made a complicated call. Hell, I would have probably done the same if I was in his shoes. Complicated problems call for complicated solutions."

"Those are our people you're talking about!" Cristine sneered. Troy saw the quick fluttering of her lashes, the twitch of her upper lip to haul in the bottled up emotions. Troy pulled her towards him with a bit more force and brought her much closer than necessary, to the point where he could see the dark brown instead of black glow and her pupils stretching. 

"You're not naïve to the trolley problem Cristine. Sounds to me Vernon forced James's hand. If he didn't petition against us and drag others into it, leaving all of us vulnerable, we wouldn't be in this mess." Troy finally slipped his hand down her lower arm, squeezing it, expecting her to push him and storm off. She didn't. Troy waited for her reaction, head tilted to the side and stare curious.

"That's not-" Cristine her breathing was a bit uneven, but low, thoughts occupied with deciphering what was the right response. She could make hard calls. Torture a man, deceive and lie when necessary. She'd done all those things and more under the term survival. But she didn't care about those dead faces. They were unimportant. Strangers. Means to an end and necessary. Ending their lives justified her actions, but this? Why were her father, Blake, and Troy heartless in their reasoning even when it came to their own? It didn't make any sense. It meant that even she was disposal when it came down to it and that made a chill creep up and down her spine. 

"Who else did you tell?" Troy asked, seeing Cristine struggle to form a response. Her mind was probably running hundreds of miles per hour. He decided to change his tactics a bit and nudge Cristine in the right direction to alleviate his worries. She'd done the same for him. She supported his plan to bring the fight here. Gave him the opportunity to dirty his hands for the good of the Ranch when she saw it necessary. Cristine proved her loyalty a while ago and in Troy's eyes that was everything. She had his back. Troy only felt it natural he did the same for her in return. It proved a large amount trust and loyalty and Cristine had more than earned that from him.

"Just you. But Blake was in on it." Cristine followed Troy's relaxed gestures, hands on his hips and nodded in understanding. She tightened her gaze, waiting for him to make his point. 

"Makes sense. He was the one in charge." Troy nodded thoughtfully to himself. "You know no one can know."

"I know, it's just-" 

Voice stern, Troy gave her no room to argue, "no one. Listen, I get that it's hard for you. You're more involved with the people as our medic and worried about your dad. Just treat it like all the other times you didn't have to think and did what you had to do. I didn't bat an eye back then and I won't look at you any other way now." Hearing that conviction out loud, albeit a bit self-centered coming from him. As if Cristine was only worried about his opinion. That idea. lossomed a strange and complicated twitch on her face. "That's why you're telling me this, right? You wanted me to know. Just me. Maybe for your own piece of mind, but I won't judge you for keeping this under wraps." Silence passed again while Troy's serious eyes flicker and relaxed for the briefest of moments. He wet his lip, briefly smiled and confessed, "I trust you and you can trust me, alright?" Like a sequence of ripples slowly starting within a puddle, that was how the implication of Troy's promise slammed into her. He watched her response unfold, dark irises peering up searching for a slither of deceit. Her features finally went slack after what felt like minutes and she was sure of his words. Cristine pressed her lips together into a straight line. That was the end of it. 

During this rare moment of disclosing his conviction, the militant and manipulative Troy wasn't there. Were it any other situation, Cristine would roll her eyes and dismiss him, but she bobbed her up and down, drawing that slightest tug of a smile from Troy with a cool nod. Fighting against the sudden heat in the back of her neck and clogged her throat, Cristine was conscious of how close they were. Closer than Cristine was comfortable admitting... even if she didn't mind it as much. It was comforting in a disturbed and messed up sense. She eventually puffed out air through her lips, fighting the heat on her skin and scratched her throat before stepping back and put a decent distance between them. However, Cristine felt emboldened by Troy's acknowledgement of their mercurial and constantly moving friendship. She raised her fingers to touch the bruise on her cheek Troy touched, tracing the sensitive mark. "I tried to stop Vernon from trying to fight my dad... must've gotten it from then," she murmured.

Troy lightly ran his tongue through the inside of his mouth, not surprised she was trying to be the voice of reason. Troy clenched his fist, fought the urge to ask her why she would do something that stupid. He didn't really expect her to be hit cause of that. Heck, he didn't rely expect Cristine to step between him and Mike either. It was always Jake and Mike who had his back. But these many betrayals these pasr days, blew him over his top. Moving his tense jaw from left to right, Troy went fully still at her raised eyes. The stare like needles pricking lightly through his skin. 

"The ones that leave don't know what's out there. Not really. I understand that my father wanted to use fear to keep them here. But he went about it the wrong way. What they need to fear is Walker; what a real person can do to them. The dead are predictable. People aren't." An unexpected tide of emotions rose in Troy and took him by surprise. It was hard to put a name to it - partly relief but mostly a drive to still turn this all around. Cristine came up with a rather simple idea. Even under that previous emotional stress, she managed to keep her cool now. The way she just went from emotional to clinical just captivating to Troy. "We control the situation with no risk of them getting hurt. Just rile them up." 

"An ambush," Troy stated with a nod. Now that there was a possibility to keep Mike and the others here, he was determined to not leave it up to chance. "Walker has a Vendetta against our dads, Vernon included. It wouldn't be out of character if he still went after him. A planned ambush under the impression that it's Walker. That's sure to convince them."

"Scare tactics." Cristine mused with a light nod. It was a fairly simple idea, "this needs to be as covert as possible. I can help. Maybe some of the guys? Also," Cristine added with a pointed look, "you need to stop being angry with Mike. If you had to choose your family, you would too." 

Troy peered at Cristine, surprised she'd be even aware of the extra layer behind his anger. "I was about to beat his ass and he still couldn't respond to me," he coughed and the complicated emotions were on full display as pure confusion. "He's always been soft, but not like this... some best friend right? Abandoning the ones he was tight with. It doesn't make any sense, knowing there's nothing good outside."

"You make sure he comes back," Cristine's urged without hesitance, tone filled with a certainty this would work. Pulling in her neck and searching for his bothered gaze. Cristine wanted to make sure she conveyed her message and trust to Troy. He seemed slightly taken aback by her remark. It was strong and showed the the trust she put in him that it left Troy speechless. This type of support was more than Mike, eveb Jake, had ever shown him when things got difficult. "Then you talk, beat his ass or do whatever it is that bonds you men. Remember; think first, act later. It's not too late." 

Her words strangely swayed him and Troy exhaled, dropping his tense shoulders in the process. "It's my responsibility, so I'll handle it." 

"You sure?" 

There was a brief pause in the air before his resplendent answer cut through the air. "I got this."


	34. - Cristine & Troy -

"That was just stupid! Why'd you get involved in their business?" Cristine just accepted the barrage of anger from her father. Hailey was helping her pack the last few medical supplies inside the infirmary.

"Same reason I got involved between you and Vernon. But whatever bonds you men." Cristine offhandedly commented.

"Don't get smart with me! This is serious." James pointed a finger at his daughter with unrestrained anger and licked his lower lip. Distress seemed to be their father's permanent mood since the attack.

"Don't be angry with her daddy." Hailey cut in and addressed her irritated father, "I asked Cristine if she could be the voice of reason and help calm everyone down."

James sighed heavily, the deep crease still present on his face. He was tired. Ashamed. Guilt. All the negative emotions weighed down on his chest and body. It felt as if he aged with each passing minute. The way he'd beg Vernon to stah, but that little stunt with Troy pushed him over the edge. It was unfortunate that his words didn't weigh as much as Jeremiah. And Jeremiah was just as stubborn and prideful. He wasn't going to beg. Hell, Otto would rather the Ranch be without people to defend it and have it burned down than fight for a thirty year long brotherhood. The Founding Fathers dwindled with the death of Russel and Phil. And now Vernon. Maybe he should've accepted that drink from Otto senior the day before they left. A curt look at Cristine and James suddenly imagined the mirage of his first wife and that idea washed down the drain.

"You two behave, I'm going to talk to Dolores."

"Remember to count to ten daddy." Hailey and Cristine said in sync when their father left them with a quick wave. The two sisters then looked at each other before a snort and pitched giggle filled the infirmary room. The chuckle soon turned into a sob and the tears began to fall down the youngest Gerard sister. Hailey automatically went into her sister's arms and sniffed and wiped her tears on her shoulders. The quiver of her small body paired with her shaky hiccups stifled the air inside the room. Rubbing her back tenderly, Cristine's expression shifted into a thoughtful one. After comforting Hailey, she left for their camper and left Cristine to pack up the last things. Looking around, the brunette leaned against the edge of one of the portable beds and rubbed the back of her neck wearily. Whilst pondering over the dilemma of a quarter of their community breaking from them, her father's reckless stunt that two of them killed, and Jake in enemy territory, Cristine chewed on her lip and was so drowned in her thoughts, she barely registered the hesitant cough. Snapped out of her daze, Cristine whipped her head to see Troy standing near the entrance. The emotions on his face were almost nonexistent when he peered at her.

"You alright?" The long silence was finally broken by her question.

"He's dead to me with every other coward that wants to run," Troy spat back, walked up to her and plopped right next on the cot. He looked down at the ground, at his stretched legs and boots. "I rounded up everyone who is still willing to fight for us," Troy explained and remembered Madison her encouraging words to help him. Whether she was trying to manipulate him or not didn't matter to him. Their interests aligned; protect their families. "We had the full advantage… this could've been over if it wasn't for Jake."

"I know," Cristine answered and scratched the top of her jeans. She wanted to whisper something positive, but couldn't think of a single thing. "Alicia thinks he did it so we all could live. In particular for the Kathy's of this world. Guess he thought about the Kathy's on the other side too."

"He gave our advantage to the enemy on a silver platter. Walker's going to scalp him and send his head back to our doorstep. You weren't at the outpost Cristine… what he did to Phil. That's not a man who wants to negotiate. That's someone who scalps and burns people. Because he wants what we have. He still doesn't have the weapons or the manpower or he wouldn't have pulled his men back. He's bluffing at this point." Troy countered and stretched back to stand on his feet.

Cristine mirrored his actions and frowned in response to Troy's keen observation. "Well his bluff worked. People are still leaving despite it all. It still leaves us vulnerable. How long until the reet lose their motivation and there's no one left? If our numbers dwindle now, its not going to be much of a fight. You men and your stupid pride are going to get us all killed." Cristine chewed her lower lip again and with a growing exasperation wrung her hands together.

"It's sticking to your principles. Most seemed to have forgotten that. Stealing shit from the Ranch and all," Troy bit back clearly annoyed. If walls, weapons, food, a militia and pantry wasn't enough for these cowards, then what use was asking them to stay. They didn't deserve this place, at all. They were dead people walking.

"What the hell is sticking to your principles going to do when everything is gone? We'll starve and be left defenseless. Then, all Walker has to do is really walk through the gates this time cause we'll be too weak to retaliate." The twitch of his face showed Troy's annoyance. Cristine was making sense, said the right things, but there was no solution within her criticism. He wet his lips and slid his arms behind his hips, tilting his body and glowered at her.

"He's still using his chicken shit scare tactics. Like I said, he can only bluff. I have volunteers willing to leave their suicide note for the greater good. Any other suggestions?" Troy didn't care if he sounded hateful or accusing. He didn't care about anyone at this point. At least he did something compared to his brother and father. The people here needed to be guided and he'd take that burden upon himself.

"Scare tactics," Cristine blurted out the blue. Troy looked at her again, confused. The side of her face pointed down and instead of interrupting her thought patterns, Troy waited for her to concoct whatever plan it was that went through her mind. His eyes twitched. Spotting a mark on her cheek. It caught his attention and he wondered what had happened. Troy relaxed his hands and before his mind registered the action, he raised his arm and curiously pressed his thumb on top of the wound.

Cristine tensed and jerked in reflex, whipping her head around and breaking contact. The way her eyes stretched and brows shot up comical. Her surprise switched to a wary confusion, but she didn't speak. Inky brown eyes cryptically make sense of his inquiry where she got this bruise from. Something inside Troy's gut confusingly stirred. Convincing him Cristine was more restless than usual. Or maybe he was after these long and hectic two days, though he could easily pick apart the emotional shift around Cristine. But unlike before, he could see through her façade so easily. She was clearly anxious about something.

Troy stated in a low murmur, "you're acting off and it's not about people leaving." Her eyes told him so. They glowed hot with emotion and betrayed the indifferent mask on her face. That quick switch from fiery hot to ice cold. Like a switch she turned on and off at will. The false front when she'd cross that shaky line of morality she clung on to for some reason and still seemed to make her sick to the stomach. The quick flutter of her eyes and her twisting her jaw from side to side. Troy was able to discern those subtle signals Cristine gave off. Signs he could spot from a mile and drew him closer, usually wanting more to uncover. Always in need to peel down the layers of her raw complexity and fascinating emotions. It was hard for Troy not to do that. He did it with Madison, but with Cristine it was always different. New, thrilling, and kept him on his toes. Cristine was worth probing. For some reason, Troy had the feeling the woman held the answers to questions his mind bore when he was by himself.

He heard her inhale after asking, "what happened Cristine?"

"It's handled," Cristine answered in a beat with a shake of the head, hoping that would appease Troy. She didn't even try to deny that something occurred. She just didn't want to tell him what it was. As expected, the answer didn't satisfy Troy at all and she felt his hand slip around her arm. His grip neither weak or firm. It was just right and she knew he wasn't going to let it go. Parting her lips, she found the right words to deliver the news, "I put down Jack before. He got bit by Theo." Her voice was steady, but the trace of disdain managed to slip through in a slightly cracked form. "It wasn't an accident… my dad he-" Cristine paused, so distracted from reciting the story Troy tugged at her arm a few times to coax her concentration and urged her to spill every detail. "-he ordered the militia to thin out on purpose so a few dead could get into the camp. The idea behind it was to show the militia's capability. Convince those talking about running they wouldn't make it without the community… that without our militia they'd die out there. It got out of hand."

Troy finished, "as a result Jack and Theo were the sacrifices and Jake went to beg for peace. It was a good plan, risky, but credits to your dad." Cristine chewed on her lip and looked away, angrily brushing aside the compliment. As if it was the most normal thing to use their own people as pawns. Having none of that, Troy repeatedly stepped in her line of sight until she gave up and looked at him again. In this moment, the rarity of her vulnerable side was clear and so captivating to him. Troy felt the urge to highlight the positive aspects of the situation. "Remember when you said it's not on me if people leave? It's not on you if people die Cristine. It's how the world is now. Your father made a complicated call. Hell, I would have probably done the same if I was in his shoes. Complicated problems call for complicated solutions."

"Those are our people you're talking about!" Cristine sneered. Troy saw the quick fluttering of her lashes, the twitch of her upper lip to haul in the bottled up emotions. Troy pulled her towards him with a bit more force and brought her much closer than necessary, to the point where he could see the dark brown instead of black glow and her pupils stretching.

"You're not naïve to the trolley problem Cristine. Sounds to me Vernon forced James's hand. If he didn't petition against us and drag others into it, leaving all of us vulnerable, we wouldn't be in this mess." Troy finally slipped his hand down her lower arm, squeezing it, expecting her to push him and storm off. She didn't. Troy waited for her reaction, head tilted to the side and stare curious.

"That's not-" Cristine her breathing was a bit uneven, but low, thoughts occupied with deciphering what was the right response. She could make hard calls. Torture a man, deceive and lie when necessary. She'd done all those things and more under the term survival. But she didn't care about those dead faces. They were unimportant. Strangers. Means to an end and necessary. Ending their lives justified her actions, but this? Why were her father, Blake, and Troy heartless in their reasoning even when it came to their own? It didn't make any sense. It meant that even she was disposal when it came down to it and that made a chill creep up and down her spine.

"Who else did you tell?" Troy asked, seeing Cristine struggle to form a response. Her mind was probably running hundreds of miles per hour. He decided to change his tactics a bit and nudge Cristine in the right direction to alleviate her worries. She'd done the same for him. She supported his plan to bring the fight here. Gave him the opportunity to dirty his hands for the good of the Ranch when she saw it necessary. Cristine proved her loyalty a while ago and in Troy's eyes that was everything. She had his back. Troy only felt it natural he did the same for her in return. It proved a large amount trust and loyalty and Cristine had more than earned that from him.

"Just you. But Blake was in on it." Cristine followed Troy's relaxed gestures, hands on his hips and nodded in understanding. She tightened her gaze, waiting for him to make his point.

"Makes sense. He was the one in charge." Troy nodded thoughtfully to himself. "You know no one can know."

"I know, it's just-"

Voice stern, Troy gave her no room to argue, "no _one_. Listen, I get that it's hard for you. You're more involved with the people as our medic and worried about your dad. Just treat it like all the other times you didn't have to think and did what you had to do. I didn't bat an eye back then and I won't look at you any other way now." Hearing that conviction out loud, albeit a bit self-centered coming from him. As if Cristine was only worried about his opinion. That idea blossomed a strange and complicated twitch on her face. "That's why you're telling me this, right? You _wanted_ me to know. Just me. Maybe for your own piece of mind, but I won't judge you for keeping this under wraps." Silence passed again while Troy's serious eyes flicker and relaxed for the briefest of moments. He wet his lip, briefly smiled and confessed, "I trust you and you can trust me, alright?" Like a sequence of ripples slowly starting within a puddle, that was how the implication of Troy's promise slammed into her. He watched her response unfold, dark irises peering up searching for a slither of deceit. Her features finally went slack after what felt like minutes and she was sure of his words. Cristine pressed her lips together into a straight line. That was the end of it.

During this rare moment of disclosing his conviction, the militant and manipulative Troy wasn't there. Were it any other situation, Cristine would roll her eyes and dismiss him, but she bobbed her up and down, drawing that slightest tug of a smile from Troy with a cool nod. Fighting against the sudden heat in the back of her neck and clogged her throat, Cristine was conscious of how close they were. Closer than Cristine was comfortable admitting... even if she didn't mind it as much. It was comforting in a disturbed and messed up sense. She eventually puffed out air through her lips, fighting the heat on her skin and scratched her throat before stepping back and put a decent distance between them. However, Cristine felt emboldened by Troy's acknowledgement of their mercurial and constantly moving friendship. She raised her fingers to touch the bruise on her cheek Troy touched, tracing the sensitive mark. "I tried to stop Vernon from trying to fight my dad... must've gotten it from then," she murmured.

Troy lightly ran his tongue through the inside of his mouth, not surprised she was trying to be the voice of reason. Troy clenched his fist, fought the urge to ask her why she would do something that stupid. He didn't really expect her to be hit cause of that. Heck, he didn't rely expect Cristine to step between him and Mike either. It was always Jake and Mike who had his back. But these many betrayals these past days, blew him over his top. Moving his tense jaw from left to right, Troy went fully still at her raised eyes. The stare like needles pricking lightly through his skin.

"The ones that leave don't know what's out there. Not really. I understand that my father wanted to use fear to keep them here. But he went about it the wrong way. What they need to fear is Walker; what a _real_ person can do to them. The dead are predictable. People aren't." An unexpected tide of emotions rose in Troy and took him by surprise. It was hard to put a name to it - partly relief but mostly a drive to still turn this all around. Cristine came up with a rather simple idea. Even under that previous emotional stress, she managed to keep her cool now. The way she just went from emotional to clinical just captivating to Troy. "We control the situation with no risk of them getting hurt. Just rile them up."

"An ambush," Troy stated with a nod. Now that there was a possibility to keep Mike and the others here, he was determined to not leave it up to chance. "Walker has a vendetta against our dads, Vernon included. It wouldn't be out of character if he still went after him. A planned ambush under the impression that it's Walker. That's sure to convince them."

"Scare tactics." Cristine mused with a light nod. It was a fairly simple idea, "this needs to be as covert as possible. I can help. Maybe some of the guys? Also," Cristine added with a pointed look, "you need to stop being angry with Mike. If you had to choose your family, you would too."

Troy peered at Cristine, surprised she'd be even aware of the extra layer behind his anger. "I was about to beat his ass and he still couldn't respond to me," he coughed and the complicated emotions were on full display as pure confusion. "He's always been soft, but not like this... some best friend right? Abandoning the ones he was tight with. It doesn't make any sense, knowing there's nothing good outside."

"You make sure he comes back," Cristine's urged without hesitance, tone filled with a certainty this would work. Pulling in her neck and searching for his bothered gaze. Cristine wanted to make sure she conveyed her message and trust to Troy. He seemed slightly taken aback by her remark. It was strong and showed the trust she put in him that it left Troy speechless. This type of support was more than Mike, or even Jake, had ever shown him these past dags. When things actually got difficult. "Then you talk, beat his ass or do whatever it is that bonds you men. Remember; think first, act later. It's not too late."

Her words strangely swayed him and Troy exhaled, dropping his tense shoulders in the process. "It's my responsibility, so I'll handle it."

"You sure?"

There was a brief pause in the air before his resplendent answer cut through the air. "I got this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> favorite chapter so far!!!!


	35. - Troy -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: violence

Troy stared blankly at the stream of bottled water running through his hand. The weak surge washed away the red on his palms as he made sure to scrub his fingers and palm clean from the fresh blood. Troy threw some of the water over his face and palmed the back of his neck to cool down his flushed skin. The chill of the night helped, but there was still a festering heat leaving him agitated. A breath later, expanding his chest, Troy's body twitched when throaty snarls filled the sweaty, gun-powered and metallic air. The unintelligent moaning grating to the ear. But he didn't turn around to finish the job. The reanimated corpses were locked in their vehicle... right where he left them to turn after he blindly and erratically crossed that line of no return. Sniffing hard, Troy rubbed his nose with the back of his hand, waiting for the buzzing in his ears to dampen. He glanced over his shoulder. In spite of the darkness, he pinpointed the exact trails of bullet holes in the side of the familiar RV. His eyes took in the busted glass of the windshield, darted to the flat tires, the large smeared out spot coating the exterior; blood. Finally, Troy's chaotic stare peered at the slouched and lifeless body of Mike.

He fucked up. Fucked up bad.

If he just followed what he and Cristine discussed hours ago... this wouldn't have happened. But he couldn't control it. Like so often when his high-strung emotions were involved. It was something he struggled with ever since he was a kid. His dad called it tantrums and his mother… well- when she couldn't stand it anymore, she made sure he stopped his senseless fits. Troy thought he had this under control, but the moment he saw the trailer reason left him. The only thing he needed to do was shoot at the from his hideout behind the rocks. Make it look like it was the Nation who wanted to kill them. Scare Mike and his family so they'd return to the Ranch, but Troy his anger returned. His best friend betrayed him and Troy went through all this effort to get him back when Mike didn't even give a shit about their friendship. Troy needed to hear from Mike's mouth why.

Troy vaguely remembered the discharged bullets from his riffle. He'd stop caring at that point. Mike yelled at him to stop. So he did, briefly, and Troy raised his arm against the glaring lights of the RV. The door busted open with a slam and Troy recognized Mike's silhouette slumping out, grasping at his right arm. He got hit and Troy's chilly blue eyes relaxed briefly with the rest of his unreadable face. Troy gestured at the injury he inflicted upon him and said, "you need to get that looked at Mike. If we go back, we can get you patched up."

"Go to hell!" Mike roared, voice raw and filled with agonizing pain, clutching his shoulder. "They're dead Troy!" Mike swayed on his feet and a trail of blood followed his unbalanced gait. Mike was too angry to cry or listen to Troy's bullshit. They'd never come back from this. Troy just killed his parents and little sister. "You think I'd wanna go back after you murdered my family?!"

"Listen," Troy began, not even acknowledging that he killed his best friend's family. "A lot has happened and we lost a lot of people. Everyone is tense... but running is not an option. You're my best friend and after all these years you just up and leave like that? Not what a best friend does Mike. You owe me the explanation I never got. A real friend would have looked me in the eye and tell me why he'd betray me."

Mike was astonished by Troy's lack of self-reflection and remorse. He was making it about him and his feelings again… about what he felt he owed him. "Why are you trying to make this about you? You think this is some game? A game where the rest of us are your expendable toys soldiers?!" Mike barked back at him incredulous and gasped at the stinging sensation that numbed the side of his body. Blood gushed through his hands that squeezed his injured arm tighter than before to apply pressure.

"I'm just looking out for you as a friend… you'll die out there without the community. It's safer at the ranch where you have your people," Troy responded calmly and offered evenly. "They need you. Like I need my best friend to back me." Troy saw Mike shake his head, eyes wide and searching for his words. The heavy pressure near the back of his skull began to buzz and Troy sucked in a another breath at Mike's furious shout.

"I don't owe you shit you fucking psychopath! We're done!"

The rain of bullets started again and Troy felt the rush course through his veins. The gunshots bounced through the open space of the night, probably audible for miles, but Troy didn't care. Mike was dead to him. In literal sense too. He wasn't going to wait for an apology. Troy watched his best friend's jerk from the projectiles. His arms spasmed like a ragdoll getting thrashed around wildly and his body slam into the side of the RV, then slowly sink down the ground like a heavy sack. The darkened blood smeared on the surface like an ugly painting. Troy's kills were all different. While he didn't go out with the intention to kill him, this was a mercy for what this burned world would do to his friend. It was a mercy kill and Troy would always remember Mike; as dead as he was.

Sucking in his chapped lips, Troy looked away from Mike's lifeless body and remembering what he'd done in a haze of betrayal and anger. He shut his eyes, vaguely thinking where it went wrong. Mike said some pretty messed up stuff to him and Troy simply reacted to it. A distant hum made Troy snap his head in the direction of the noise.

A car.

"Shit," Troy jumped up on his feet, squinted his eyes and was about to head for the horse he brought with him. Cars left tracks and a horse was silent and quicker. Sprinting for his mare, Troy hurriedly untied the reigns and tugged the animal with him. Just as he was about to mount, glaring white spotlights enveloped him and his horse. The animal neighed, spooked by the sudden lights and Troy gave up calming it down by pulling up his riffle. "Get out of the damn car!" Troy swallowed thickly and while he was panicking, arms heavy from holding the rifle so tightly.

"Don't shoot!" The familiar voice begged before the door of the driver side opened. Troy breathed deeply and his brows furrowed tightly. The white lights dimmed and he saw the person exit the car slowly, arms raised. "I'm stepping out slowly son. Don't do anything rash."

"You shouldn't have followed me." Troy's finger twitched on the trigger when the silhouette of James became clear after his eyes adjusted to the muted darkness again. His gaze quick flicked to the massacre of the RV and Troy almost threateningly stepped forward and demanded. "Why are you here?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So! I'm definitely early with this chapter, but I'm really excited to start this new character arc and dynamics. So share your thoughts and expect another chapter to drop by tomorrow. Hope you guys like the direction I'm taking the story in! I'm on a roll and things are starting to get interesting!!


	36. - James & Madison

It was deep in the night by the time Madison and James jumped into the truck. James climbed behind the wheel. Madison took the passenger seat. Her leg bounced with light worry and anxiety of what they would find. Across the thick darkness, only the lights of the truck illuminated the sandy and rocky road. Luckily, the dead were cleared around her meticulously by the militia for them to go back to the Ranch tomorrow. "You think he'll do something rash?" Madison finally asked, minutes after James pushed the gas pedal and the gravitational force of the uneven road shook them from side to side. She looked at James, the elder man focused on the path. The way he squeezed the wheel, body taut and severe face gave Madison part of his answer

James licked his cracked lips and started, "when you feel betrayed, it makes you do irrational things. You don't think… you just act. During the war… a lot of the men in my team lost it… did the worst thing possible to people. We didn't think about them being innocent or guilty, just an enemy we had to kill because they could kill us… put us in danger when we had our own people back home to think of. I can understand where he comes from… he wants answers."

"James… even for Troy this is-" Madison furrowed her brows, a faint chill made her shift in her seat and touch the gun at the side of her hip. She thought back when she watched Troy talk to his men like a leader. She'd often saw how the militia followed him. How they were drawn to him and his cause. That person was an asset. The unpredictable Troy right now, was either a liability in the long-run for them or someone still useful if controlled and contained.

"Too far? I agree, but I don't see how that is any different from what I did," James remarked and grimaced. "Cristine can't even look at me anymore. You know how you try to protect your kids, lie to them? They see through you. It's hard, but knowing that my daughters and my wife are safe makes everything worth it. Even if they hate me for what I've always have been."

Madison agreed, "you spend your whole life lying to your kids because you think you can protect them. Somehow, someway, they know. They know who you are, they know what you did. They know you. It’s in the blood. What you tried to do, it didn't go exactly as planned, but from what you told me and I've seen; Cristine is strong. She reminds me of Alicia. Always the responsible one no matter what."

"My children and I… your daughter, we've been out and we understand why we sometimes have to do the things that we do. The things you've done. Lie and use what you can to your advantage to keep your family safe. Cause that's all you have left in this world now. What we've done so far, we will have to do again, for all our survival." Madison finished before looking back at the road with chilled eyes.

James nodded faintly and sighed, "whatever we end up finding… we'll need to be prepared for the worse."


	37. Chapter 37

"Don't shoot!" The familiar voice begged before the door of the driver side opened. Troy breathed deeply and his brows furrowed tightly. The white lights dimmed and he saw the person exit the car slowly, arms raised. "I'm stepping out slowly. Don't do anything rash son." 

"You shouldn't have followed me." Troy's finger twitched on the trigger when the silhouette of James became clear after his eyes adjusted to the muted darkness again. His gaze quick flicked to the massacre of the RV and Troy threateningly stepped forward and demanded. "Why are you here?!" 

"Saw you sneak out," James answered, tune low and voice controlled. He didn't react to the sound of the agitated snarls. James kept looking at him with the calmest gaze. "Lower the rifle Troy. I know you're not going to shoot me." 

A sneer that was more distress than an act of gallantry. "Don't tempt me." The sound of the passenger seat opening made Troy move the nuzzle of his weapon in that direction. He blinked a couple of times, taken back as to why she was here and spoke, voice confused, "Madison?" She had her arms up, but her gaze was harsh and stoic. She had her chin raised and her eyes peered directly at Troy, calculated and in a manner that always looked for an angle. Troy grimaced, moody and wary by her motivations. If Madison had but a sliver of being able to use something to her advantage, she would. 

"Put the gun down Troy," Madison bid coolly and after a bout of silence lowered her arms. In spite of Troy holding them under gunpoint, she was so strangely calm in the situation. 

Troy didn't know how to feel. How to respond. He was confused, not anxious of what they'd find, but caught off-guard by their response. In particular James. It was easy to figure out what happened. What he had done to the Trimbols... to Mike. Troy locked his gaze with said man and the corner of his lips twitched. "I swear it wasn't supposed to go like this... He needed to look me in the face and say it to me James. Like Vernon did to you." 

James didn't speak until Troy finished and bobbed his head, acknowledging his claim, "I know." Troy chewed on his chapped lips, tense stance faltering just that bit and he glanced at Mike's corpse. "Just put down the gun and we'll figure this out." 

"Why?!" Troy snapped, eyes feral again. It didn't make sense that James, out of everyone, was this calm and understanding. Troy might have not been as clear headed and in control of himself during the act, but James his response was more messed up than anything. "You should draw your gun. Make me pay for killing your friend." 

"He's dead, Troy. Whether he died by your hand, the dead, Walker's or someone else... that was his fate. I warned him and he didn't want to listen to me. He wanted to see for himself what was out here for him and his family... and he did." 

"James," Madison interjected in a clipped tone. She glanced back and forth between him and Troy. James paused briefly, looked the mother up and down, as if she told him a joke, and shrugged. Troy was still confused, but relaxed when he couldn't detect any lies. Slowly, but gradually he lowered his riffle. His shoulders dipped down, the weight on them heavy and light at the same time. He didn't know if he should feel guilty or relieved, his mind and emotions at an all time high, but steadily faltering to as they were before. At a state where he didn't feel anger, fury or anything else. 

James nodded and finally looked in the direction of the busted RV. It was too dark for Troy to see his expression. But his posture was neither tense or relaxed and Troy his eyes followed James walking towards the vehicle. Still wary and confused before he looked at the weapon in his hands. He felt empty and tired and blamed it on the adrenaline leaving his system. 

"Do you regret it? Troy sucked in a breath and didn't realize that Madison was this close to him until he snapped his neck up in alarm. He avoided her gaze at first, unable to find the words to answer. The figure of James from his peripheral distracted him, but the Madison made sure she had his attention. Troy looked at the ground again, pondering about his answer and opened his mouth. 

"- he owed me. Probably not what you want to hear after our last conversation, is it?" Troy scoffed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "He said some things... and I-… I don't know." His voice faltered under a whisper. 

"But that wasn't what you were here for." Seeing his lost appearance, Madison said, wanting to get an idea behind Troy's motives. Even if he acted on his emotion and lost control, it was clear from his response that killing wasn't planned. He had other motivations to be here and his clarification proved her right. 

"It was Cristine's idea. Suggested we do this smart and controlled. She even offered to join... I don't think it would have ended this bad if she did. She is practical like that. Should have let her come with me." Troy forced a smile with a light shake of his head. Madison watched him struggle to find his words and deliberately touched his arm. It made Troy snap his head up, piercing blue stare guarded. Wary, but accepting of the manipulation with one another. He and Madison never revealed their true cards. Madison was always on her toes when it involved Troy and his bizarre willingness to play along. However, there was something else inside Troy's stare that was difficult for the blonde to pinpoint at first. But the more Madison observed his unsure body language, the more she saw the complicated emotions play out on Troy's face. Whether that had to do with sticking to the original plan or this unexpected massacre of the Trimbols; Troy actually seemed to care about what Cristine would think. Almost defeated that he had disappointed her in the end. Madison pressed her lips together and remembered to keep that to herself. Troy Otto actually had someone, other than his family, that he trusted and cared about. And she could use that as a wild card. Whether Troy was aware of that or not was another thing. Madison didn't know how deep the high regard ran or if it was just a camaraderie built on survival. 

"You wanted to scare them in coming back if they thought it was the Nation attacking them from the rocks," James piped up after placing Mike's body on the ground. "Cristine was furious with me... for keeping secrets and risking our people. A bit ironic, but she is definitely my child." James tilt his head before rubbing the back of his neck, but didn't finish what he was about to say. Just that he didn't know how to feel about noticing the traces of his ruthlessness and darkness inside his daughter. She was the same as him and that was the last thing he wanted for Cristne. With the killing came burdens and sleepless nights. Cristine already placed the burden of his actions on herself... how was she going to give what happened here a place if she knew? James glanced at Troy from the corner of his eyes and narrowed them thoughtfully. "We need to make it seem like this is Walker's doing. Like the two of you planned." James rose to his feet and pushed his hands into his hips. He looked at the trailer, his back facing Madison and Troy as he talked out loud, "we strip the RV. Walker wouldn't waste supplies." 

"And the bodies?" Madison implored. 

James turned, looking past Troy at Madison. "He scalped Phil at the outpost… burned the rest of the bodies… that's what we'll do." James walked up to the two and rested his hand on Troy's slouched shoulder. The latter slightly ducked his head and avoided eye contact by looking away and chewing on his lips. "Other than Cristine, we don't know who else knows you snuck out… but if anyone asks… you were with me all night. Bonded over the betrayal of our close friends. Understood?" 

"…" 

"I need a yes Troy. If we're going to do this right and believable. You do exactly as I say." 

"Why are you doing this? You don't owe me." Troy let the question finally slip. His brain swimming with so many illogical questions and his expression was open confusion now. He looked between the two people he respected for their wits and ability to exploit situations. Made the sacrifices necessary and not look back. James backed his initial plan when Jake wouldn't. It wasn't until the veteran agreed with him that it swayed Big Otto to do all of this and Troy didn't know how to feel about that. That his father would trust the word of a friend over that of his own son. His blood. "Why aren't you angry?" 

James narrowed his eyes. "I'm furious. But, what's the use throwing a skilled soldier and leader to the wolves when there's a war? Your father is back at the Ranch with a handful of soldiers, your brother is negotiating peace with the Nation, and we're out here in the wild with our people. They are scared and need to be guided. All I'm asking you- ordering you is that you control whatever demons you're struggling with son." Troy was entranced by the unbiased words of James and felt his chest swell at the next question, "we need to save our people and I need to know if you're ready for that. Are you ready to fight for our home and our people?" 

Troy swallowed, his throat was dried up, but this familiar feeling when he picked up his weapons to protect his home from the enemy. To defend it from falling in the hands of hostile forces. Just like his father prepared him all his life. It was what he was meant to do. It was his calling. Troy felt the shallow remains of doubt and guilt over what he'd done vanish and with renewed vigor answered the question, voice strong and sure, "yes, sir." 

  
The rest of the night, the three of them stripped the inside of the RV clean of all the supplies. James thought it best to bury the supplies instead of wasting them. After, they put down Vernon, Kathy, and Gretchen, dragged the bodies out, and laid them together on the dirt. James took Troy his machete and started the arduous task of scalping Vernon's heax. It was then that Madison offered to stand as a lookout. An excuse so she didn't have to witness or think about it. She was willing to do anything for her children's safety, but actually seeing James in action and seeing the lifeless body of Gretchen in front of her, a slither of remorse slipped through her mind. She was Alicia's age and too unprepared and innocent for this world. Yet here she was covering for the teen's murderer and an accomplice. Madison crossed lines, too many to count. But those deaths were swift, a bullet to the head, a push into the dead, and never having to think about it. All in the name of family. She had no room to speak given the awful things she had done. And this feeling would pass, it always dif but right now, Madison felt sick. 

"Water?" Troy's presence made her briefly shut her eyes, pretending he wasn't standing right next to her for a few seconds. But he was here, as real as the wet sound of James sawing the head of his dead friend. She sighed and her eyes flickered open, moving to the side where Troy held the water bottle and patiently waited for her to accept it. Madison curtly looked at the taller youth, saw nothing in his gaze that showed guilt or remorse and took the bottle. Troy acted as if he didn't just murder his childhood friend and family; signs of someone with unginged sociopathic tendencies. Troy wiped his hand on his pants after he stared at Madison's peripheral for a second and breathed out a short breath that sounded like a chuckle. He lightly scratched the side of his nose and scraped his boots on the sand. "You know," he began in a light voice, "I never got the chance to say this with everything going on, but you and your family earned your keep. You've really proven yourself, even Nick. I mean he's right at home with the militia..." 

"I told you he would." Madison shifted, her answer neither hot or cold. "Seems you were wrong about him not deserving his place here." 

"Hey, I can at least admit that. It's not the first time that's happened. Some people just surprise you like that. They're the ones that go against the grain. Especially the ones you think won't do shit at a first glance. The ones you're sure shit is done to. If I had to do it over, I would definitely change some of the calls I made about the ones I didn't pick at the start. They definitely deserve it more than others anyway." Troy exhaled deeply, gaze faraway. Putting everything in perspective and concluded that when it really mattered his closest people betrayed him while a certain scowling medic he knew for just a few months had his back and knew the true meaning of loyalty. 

"You're talking about Cristine." Madison decided to probe and hoped Troy would catch the bait... hoped Troy would play long enough to at least slip details that determined if he was just talking about hjs odd idea of a friendship or more. Glancing at him from the corner of her eyes, Madison was a bit taken aback by Troy's brief smile and kept her face as relaxed as possible during the times he looked at her. 

"She's a tough one for sure. Loves to argue just to make a point. But always loyal to the cause. I still can't quite figure her out though. She cares, at times a little too much, even for strangers. Then all of a sudden there's something that doesn't make her that different from us. From me. She doesn't know she gets like that though... it's- I don't know. I get her more when she's like that and she gets me too, even if she doesn't admit it. I think she just worries about what people will think of her when she lets it out. Really let it out. She hasn't, but I think she wants to and needs to. Something is still stopping her, but she'll be more of an asset if she does." Troy pulled his shoulders up and scrunched his brows together. Feeling Madison her narrowed stare, he chuckled. "So. What is your conclusion as a school guidance counselor? You have enough material to analyze my rant about my friend?" 

Madison didn't outwardly betray that Troy had caught onto her. Pushing back her shoulder, she gestured at James and said, "let's help James. The sun will come up soon and we need to be back by then." Madison ended the conversation without denying or confirming Troy's claim. Troy tipped his chin down and rubbed the traces of blood on his bruised knuckles with his sensitive fingertips. He opened his mouth, thinking of his conversation with Cristine a few hours back. Her loyalty and trust were something else and Troy welcomed it. He said he wouldn't look at her differently or bat an eye at the things she did and proposed so they could live. Troy was convinced neither would she. He fucked up, but deep down he was sure that Cristine would understand. For the greater good. James did and if his response was something to go by... then he could imagine Cristine's reaction. She and her father were the same. With that thought, Troy remembered how Madison poked and prodded. He wasn't thrilled with her trying to look for an angle. To use something that could cripple him in the long-run. Their game was fun, yes, but Troy wasn't going to stand for anyone trying ruin the true loyalties and responsibilities he had as an Otto. Whether that was his family, the militia, or his friendship with Cristine. He'd protect those things. 

"Madison," Troy stopped the mother in mid step as he said her name. Troy couldn't see her face, but knew she listened to him. "Whatever it is you do for you and your family's sake, be my guest. I know you won't jeopardize any of this for your children's safety. It's why we never miss a beat. It's kind of funny seeing you do it with James too, but leave Cristine and her family out of it. At the very least, I'd watch your back if you do decide to get on her bad side. She doesn't like being used for petty stuff and she isn't stupid." Troy titled her head and said with a relaxed smile, "fair warning: Cristine was an infectiologist before this and can and will hurt you without you even realizing it." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Share your thoughts please!
> 
> Did you see this plot twist coming? What do you think of Troy interaction with both Madison and James? 
> 
> What so you guys think of Troy's little protective streak when it comes to Cristine?


	38. Chapter 38

Cristine carefully cradled the little Christine in her arms after scooping her out of the scale after examining her weight. The one day old newborn was their community's youngest member. With Jack's death, everyone supported the single mother and her baby as best as they could. Both mentally and physically. Kathy was still adapting to the loss of her husband, but her daughter kept her going and Cristine was impressed with the weary woman. "She's 7 pounds." Alicia said and scribbled down the details of the child's measurements. Cristine nodded and breathed gently when she felt the tiny human being stir within her hands. She softly cooed under her breath and a natural smile flourished on her face, softening her features as she turned to face Kathy. Despite the tiredness settling in her features, her eyes always seemed to spark back to life when she had her daughter. 

"She's 20 inches tall and her head circumferences is about 14 inches." After listening to Alicia reciting all the stats, Cristine pulled one of the stools and set it opposite of Kathy and began to examine the baby's skin color. There was nothing out of order. The healthy reddish and pink hue displayed a healthy blood circulation. The blueish tinge near the tiny fingers and toes finally dissolved and aside from the dryness and peeling near the wrists and ankles, which was normal at this stage, everything else was normal and more importantly healthy. Cristine then moved to do perform a thorough examination on child's head, neck, heart and lungs, abdomen and genitals. Alicia was watching Cristine attentively, taking notes and remembering everything she could. She found her place in the infirmary and finally felt like she pulled her weight by doing something meaningful. It helped that everything was hands on and she could immediately support wherever she could. Cristine still did the complicated and risky procedures, but Alicia was a quick learner and the older medic trusted her enough to put her in charge of the infirmary or perform the routine checkups. It gave Alicia a chance to get to know everyone better and settle in like one of them. Nick was settled in the militia and her mother moved around like a chameleon. 

"How have her rooting and sucking reflexes been?" Cristine lowered the stethoscope from her ears, the question aimed at Kathy. The mother lowered her chin and rocked her slightly fussing daughter back and forth. 

"Sometimes, I need to stop her from eating too much… she has that appetite from her daddy, don't you, you little firecracker?" Kathy stretched her pinky finger and when the digit touched the sleeping infant's lips, the baby began to suckle it automatically. The newborn made some small kicking motions in the air. Tilting her head to the side, Cristine didn't know that this tiny and fragile human, that smiled in her sleep, could fill her so many emotions it threatened to make her heart burst. It helped to push down the eternal guilt she'd feel knowing it was because of her father that mother and daughter were without their support. 

"That's good." Cristine wanted to remember this tender moment, but she needed to do something important. She hadn't seen Troy at all and best excuse she could use was switching shifts with Alicia. Sitting up straight in her seat, she looked over her shoulder at the younger teen. "Kathy, I have to finish my door-to-door checkups before we leave. Alicia will take over for me. You're in good hands, alright?" Kathy looked between Alicia and Cristine, it seemed she wanted to say something, but held back her words and nodded. "You drive back home with me and my family. I'll drop by your RV to grab some of you and my twin's stuff." 

Kathy's "Thank you Cristine. You don't know how much that means to me."

  
-

"Care to check on me too doctor?" Just as Cristine finished her last patient, her father startled her. He was dressed in a camo pants, freshly cut beard and filled with the same vigor as a new recruit. Cristine looked him up and down and, surveying him for any visible injury. She didn't find any until he waved his wrapped hand in front of her. Cristine furrowed her brow together and gestured at her father to offer his hand, which James did. It looked fresh from the color of the blood around the handkerchief. Cristine ignored the way her father grunted under his throat as she unwrapped the covering and revealed a deep cut, probably from a knife.

"What happened?" Cristine looked back, eyes confused and questioning at the same time. But her father shrugged her worry off and explained. "I couldn't sleep last night and we went out to do some hunting. There's been some boars around this area, but I was clearly too careless during our recreational night out." 

Cristine noted how her father talked in plural form and asked with her brow raised, "we?"

"Troy and I. Saw him brooding near the gates last night… wasn't hard to figure out what kept him up and fuming, so I offered we blow off some steam. He clearly needed it and so did I." Cristine kept her poker face up, wondering if Troy had gone out at all to execute their plan. But from her father's story, she didn't get the idea that he had. So she conversed as nonchalant as she could to not draw any suspicions. 

"That's thoughtful of you daddy," Cristine showed her dimpled smile and rummaged through her medic bag to get out some ointment for the deep cut. "I assume you got this in the process of your recreational hunting?" She cradled his calloused hand and wiped the cut clean with the uttermost gentleness. 

"Well, we managed to track one down. It's been a while since we've had a strong meal for our community gatherings. But there were infected and let's just say they managed to enjoy our spoils before we could cut 'em all down. I only noticed this after we got back in the truck and headed home." 

"What happened to going out in groups of more than two?" Cristine knew her father was usually a stickler to the rules, usually, but from his story it sounded as if he and Troy were out all night. Which meant the Trimbols were gone and with that their last chance to keep the community from fully fracturing. Her father's face contorted and he forced a smile that made her heart ache for the loss of his friend. She didn't know the hurt ran this deep and slightly regretted her harsh words the day before. Just that, not the callout. 

"I needed a distraction and Troy did too. He won't admit it, but he's taken it the hardest. I've known him and Mike since they were little boys. Little rascals both of 'em, but they were close and even had the other's back when they got themselves into mischief."

"When was this?" Cristine was the same age as Mike and Troy. She never knew her father ever visited Broke Jaw Ranch during her childhood. She would've known.

"Remember when you stayed at Lito and Lita's for the summer? After your mother passed, I needed to work on myself. Your grandmother and grandfather offered to look after you during that time. I visited some of my old friends to recuperate." James flexed his fingers repeatedly, cracking his knuckles. "It was a one time thing, but that's when I first met their kids. Told them I would bring you some time." 

"Hm," Cristine hummed and made a turtle face and James pinched her in the cheek for that ugly and unimpressed expression. "We both know how that would have ended if you did. Funny enough, I did meet them… in an apocalypse. And Mike and Troy are both bullheaded idiots." A hearty laugh rumbled through her father's chest and Cristine shrugged, not hiding her opinion on the two childhood friends. Her expression faltered and her tune softened, almost concerned when she asked, "were you able to distract him with the hunting? He was pretty pissed… and when he gets like that sometimes he uh- he doesn't really think. Which makes no sense, cause he's not dumb." Cristine shook her head finding her worry for Troy utterly ridiculous. She just had this overall bad feeling in her bones since she woke up. So hearing that Troy and her father were out last night lessened that sinking feeling in her gut. The curious glance in the baby blue eyes made her avert her eyes, distracting her focus by rolling the disinfectant between her palms. In doing that, she completely missed the narrowed look of her father, his expression cautious and curious of what she truly wanted to say.

"You're worried about him," James finished and scratched his clean-shaven chin. Cristine neither denied or confirmed his claim. The only thing she did was give him a questioning look that said she rather he answer her question. "I would say he's calmed down. Focused. You don't have to worry Birdie, he might be a bullheaded idiot and a hothead at times, but knows what his priorities and responsibilities are."

"Good. I mean good that hanging out with you helped." Cristine sighed and scratched her forehead before brushing the stray hairs from her forehead. "Guess we'll have to figure out how we'll reorganize the trip back a quarter of our people going out on their own." 

"James! Cristine!" A voice rings out behind them, interrupting the father-daughter conversation. It was Blake and from the grim sound of his hoarse call and sever expression, the news didn't bode well. 

  
Cristine gaped and shook her head in disbelief. Horror and shock turned to pity until that eventually morphed into anger. Her body shook, her gut clenched and her mind spiraled left, right and center. Unable to form a coherent thought. Mike, Gretchen, their parents; their Trimbols were murdered in cold blood and their bodies looked worse for wear. Balling her fists until they hurt, she heard a shaky gasp and looked away from the dead family at her sister. Hailey covered her mouth, her face hollowed and sunken by what she saw. Cristine thoughtlessly grabbed her sister by the arm and pulled her into a strong embrace, away from having to look at the horror. 

"Don't look," Cristine touched the back of her sister's shaking head and felt her wet face dip into her shirt. Shoulders quivering, breaths coming out in short intervals and the stuttering cries of Hailey just weighed heavier on Cristine's heart as she whispered again, "don't look." 

_"Why threaten us just to still pick us off one by one? Also... he's negotiating with Jake about peace... it doesn't make sense."_ There were holes in this story, at least those were Cristine's initial thoughts, _"the Founding Fathers are Walker's enemies. Maybe he's just been waiting for his chance... but why kill Vernon's family too?"_ While Cristine tried to rationalize the situation, she concluded that making sense out of the motives of someone out for revenge and slaughter was a waste of time. The Nation killed Charlie, Phil, and now the Trimbols. With that Cristine tightened her arms around Hailey some more before glowering at the four corpses caked in dirt and blood. Walker wanted to weaken them and drive fear. He'd start by plucking the Founding Fathers and their families first, which by extension meant hers too. She wasn't going to let that happen. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Share your thoughts or leave a kudo ☺


	39. Chapter 39

"Why not!? I want to help!" Hailey snapped back in a heated tone. Her anger flared some more when Cristine and her father all but ignored her. They were treating her like a child and it wasn't fair. Biting hard into the plump flesh of her lower lip to stop it from quivering, she stood in front of the door, barricading the front door of her and their parent's cabin.

"We discussed this Hailey." James shook his head.

"No you _told_ me I can't sign up for the militia when we obviously need the manpower. Cristine is going. This is bullshit!" Her nostrils flared angrily. After the horrific reveal that Mike and his family were murdered in cold blood, it changed the course for everyone. No one was even thinking of leaving. Fear for Walker and the Nation turned into vengeful ire and made it clear they were safer and much stronger when together. There wasn't any news from Jake even when the community returned to Broke Jaw Ranch, but the Indians were on a warpath and no one was going out until absolutely necessary. Hailey wanted to fight too and get revenge for Mike if it was the last thing she'd do.

"Watch your mouth young lady." Dolores piped up from behind the coffee table. Worry seemed to be her permanent expression lately and it was understandable. So much violence and death had surrounded them in the span of five days. Of course she wasn't used to any of this and knowing she and her family were at the top of a kill list didn't help either. So hearing her only child act out like this and demanding to fight, Dolores had enough. "You will do no such thing! Your place is to stay here and do your part behind the walls."

Hailey winced, but didn't back down. "I know how to use a gun and know where to strike an infected! I'm not some damsel and I refuse to wait around like some coward-"

"Enough!" James roared, making everyone in the room jump from his thundering voice. Hailey remained planted against the door, Dolores her eyes were wide and Cristine moved her tense jaw back and forth. This argument grew from a breeze into a full-blown tornado. The words spoken by Hailey were well-intended for the situation, but they provoked James his usual patient side that originated from fear for his family's safety. The wood under James' boots creaked as he shifted and hoisted the sports bag with guns on his shoulder. The harshness inside his eyes sharpened when laying eyes on his youngest, and equally as stubborn as his oldest, daughter. His mouth tightened with a tense over-protectiveness that Hailey didn't always see him show Cristine. Why was her father treating her like some weak and frail child?

"That's the end of this," James hissed, pupils dilating and shutting down any form of resistance from Hailey.

Cristine knew Hailey had toughened up considerably. Teaching Hailey everything she needed to know in the infirmary and she even taught her how to kill an infected. It was mostly how to get herself out of a sticky situation, how to think ahead and fool people into thinking she wasn't a threat. But Cristine knew that, outside of the safety of the ranch, her baby sister wouldn't make it with how easily she let her emotions get the best of her. Not without her, her father, and this place still standing. She and their father would protect them.

  


"This is a one-time thing for me Hailey," Cristine added to even out the tension and her sister's misconception that she was joining the militia any time soon to go outside and fight. "I swapped some of my shifts with you and Alicia so I can help train the new recruits. We're short a few hands and I've done it before. Besides, the three of us need to be ready at the infirmary for anything at any time. That's _our_ job."

  


-

  
It felt like forever since Cristine last moved between the militia. She counted all the new and old faces that volunteered. They were either practicing on the shooting range with a bow or rifle under tutelage of Coop and Blake. Others were taught the basic hand to hand skills with knifes, machetes and whatever sharp objects by Jimmy and Joe. Men and women alike signed up. It was a mixture of younger and older. Correcting her worn out cap to shield her frowning eyes from the glaring sun, Cristine her emotions were grim. While this was exactly what they needed, this only happened because of the gruesome deaths of the Trimbols. They had the memorial service and burial on the exact day they returned to the Ranch. A few hours later, everyone went back to their routines and used their grief and anger to strengthen the militia, the infirmary, defenses and continue with the regular chores.

"Feels like deja-vu, doesn't it?" Troy stepped next in line to her, staring down from the low hill at the bustling training ground. The sun was up high, the air smelled of dirt and fresh gun powder. "You imagine last time we stood here was just a bit over a month ago?"

"Lost a lot of people during that time," Cristine said, commenting on that fact no one really brought up, but was definitely at the surface of everyone's mind. She crossed her arms under her chest before pushing her shoulders backwards, revealing the pointed glare that sucked something out of the air. She never looked away from the training ground, full focus on the recruits, just them practicing, eyes never blinking. Even in this heat, her silence was calculated. Her mannerisms almost clinical and evened out Troy's mood.

"Yeah. Yeah, we did." Troy's hands were distracted with a rifle. He didn't have the same protection of a cap for his eyes and the small space between his brows were deep, sometimes even leaving behind the dent for a day or two. His voice was strong and crisp when stating, "it's why we'll fix it all up." His finger drummed on the contour of the weapon and nodded at the scenery in front of them, words casual, "it's good you were able to help out with the new recruits. Some of them sure as shit need a teacher."

Cristine her mouth twitched, but she didn't respond immediately. Her eyebrows were still quirked, but Troy's light words managed to relax her tense facial muscles. She finally found it in herself to look at him for the first time, faintly tilting her head. Brazen blue eyes watched her curiously. It was a silent stare off and Cristine wondered if the man she shared her burdens with last night, felt wistful. Troy coaxed her worries and guilt so easily. Making them sound menial in the grand scheme of things. And it _had_ lessened the invisible pressure she put on herself. He said he trusted her and she could trust him in return. She wondered if Troy trusted her enough to share his hardships with her as well. She couldn't quite piece together from his outwardly relaxed behavior if Troy had grieved over the loss of Mike. She just noticed he was more reserved than usual and hyper fixated with the militia and his job to coordinate and lead it all. So Cristine wasn't going to bring it up unless he did. Also, it wasn't just Troy's behavior that prompted her to wonder about his emotional state, it was the warring intelligence within those blue irises that declared facing everything linked to feelings would be dealt with after. After a brief silence, Cristine moved her eyes away from him, looking back at the bustling recruits. The faintest purse of her full lips exhibited her curiosity and she asked Troy the exact same question as when she did the first time she helped them a bit over a month ago, "so what do you want me to do?"

Troy partnered Cristine up with Blake to teach the inexperienced recruits how to use a rifle. She lined her fingers along the cool and long barreled firearm and positioned the buttocks of the light weight near the centerline of her body and high up her chest. Her elbows were down. Just as she was about to aim for the set up targets, a gruff sounding voice broke her concentration with the most silly question ever.

  


"Pretty good stance you have there sweet cheeks, but do you really know how to handle such a big boy?" She paused, registered and processed both comment and taunting ask, before Cristine slowly relaxed and lowered her stance and the rifle. She glanced over her shoulder A man trotted over. She eyed him carefully. He seemed her age, maybe a bit older, but not by much. His hair was yellow and cut short. He was of average height, average build in green denim pants with a long sleeved, checkered shirt. His eyes were wild and he smiled as if he just rolled in from the greatest adventure. There wasn't an ounce of fear on him. Ah. Cristine mused to herself, "_he must have some experience outside."_ Or maybe the man was just plain cocky. Very cocky and out to impress the rest or something from the way he posed from head to toe.

"The recoil on those babies can be pretty tough if not used with diligence sweetheart." Cristine flicked her eyes in the direction of Blake, who seemed to stifle a growing smirk on his face as he mushed his lips on top of each other. Her own lips pressed into a thin line before she tapped a finger on the side of her thigh.

"Oh," Cristine piped up in fake surprise and looked at the riffle in her hands. "Show me." The man started as Cristine shoved the weapon inside his hands, staring at him expectantly. The look on his face morphed into one of curiosity, his light colored eyes narrowing. He eyed her stern face and for some reason found that oddly… hot looking.

"Don't mind if I do." He said with that same boastful tone and pulled the earmuffs to protect his ears. The blond took the exact same stance as Cristine, inhaled and exhaled, aimed at the man-sized target and fired.

His shots went straight through their marks, lethal for a living person, not so much for the undead. But she would be lying, if she didn't applaud the man for his sniping skills. Still, most of the recruits had a history with guns, so it wasn't that surprising. After a few more rounds, he stopped, put the safety back on and lowered the riffle. He flashed her a pearly white smile and said, "the trick is to imagine that they're shooting at you. That's a guarantee to always hit the mark doll."

"Thanks for the tip." Cristine's answer was genuine, but she was getting irritated by the constant name calling. "You're a good shot…?"

His hazel colored eyes lit up and brushed his hand through his blonde locks, "Cole… Cole Dunphy. Me, my brother and ma were out just a little bit. We actually moved to the Ranch the day it happened, took down a geek or two on the way here. Is it true you came all the way from San Francisco?" He asked; his southern twang ever so prominent.

"Yeah." Cristine held out her hand, gesturing for the weapon again and the man 's eyes widened in invitation. Sighing internally, she deadpanned, "that's the story. It got overrun with the dead and bombed down."

"Shame, but we're lucky to be here now. Fight for what's right." Cole shrugged and watched the female get in her shooting pose again. His eyes roamed down her hips and a smirk crossed his lips, "I can show-" A sequence of loud pops drowned out his voice. Glancing at the shooting marks, his eyes twitched and he felt his neck warm up. The metal rounds repeatedly blew through the marks head, shot after shot with unwavering intent.

Amazed, Cole swallowed a lump in his throat and tore his eyes back to Cristine. This time, she flashed him a half dimpled smile, "the trick is to always aim for the head no matter what. That's a guarantee to always hit the mark doll. You have half an hour before we go out."

  


  


-

  


"You know, avoiding him now is only going to complicate stuff later on." Cristine arched a brow at Troy after he dumped the sports bag into the back of the truck. The clinging sound of the metal weapons loud in the ear. Troy gestured in the direction of Blake, who occasionally looked back and Cristine didn't even hide the annoyance in her face at his nosy attentiveness. Cristine didn’t respond and distracted herself by fastening the supplies. They were heading outside to fix the force field and it was the perfect opportunity to get acquainted with the 'real world' as Troy coined it.

"No need to get pissy with me. I'm just saying that whatever it is you two are arguing about, it's not worth it... also, I need everyone focused. We're going out." Troy turned, facing the rest and casually leaned against the pickup truck's tailgate. He was absently fumbling with some grass he picked up, dismantling the stem.

Cristine scowled, feeling insulted by his claim. "I'll have focus, don't worry."

"Not talking about you. Blake has a soft spot for you and I need him at his best." Troy looked at Cristine again, eyes thoughtful and probing. "Why are you angry with him anyway? Is it because of what happened at the camp? He followed his orders like a good soldier."

Cristine roughly pulled at the buckles to fasten the bags and jerked her body halfway around to glare up at Troy. "Just because I'm keeping quiet about it, doesn't mean I have to get over it as easily as you guys. At least pretend to care about the ones we lost."

"You don't think I don't?" Troy's question was clipped and defensive near the end. The comment clearly hit a nerve and Cristine regret it the moment it left her mouth and heard the slight in his voice. The way she had to analyze every word and action to avoid this exact reaction already tiring. But she adapted. She didn't mean for it to sound like she overlooked or discount his feelings, as unruffled and cool Troy seemed from the outside. He was one of the few who always went out, voluntarily risking his life outside, whether just for the thrill of it, and came back so the community could live in the comfort of their homes. Cristine recognized where his outbursts sometimes cultivated when people judged him, but complained at the same time how he did his job. True, Troy could try to be less of an entitled asshole, but no one could argue that he didn't care about his home and the people. Even if he sometimes used it as a crutch to justify his often cold-blooded and manic tendencies obsessed with violence, bloodshed, and his own unruly urges.

Cristine sighed, face contorting into regret. "I know you do. I didn't mean it like that." Troy's tense mouth went slack. The back and forth flicker of his irises inspecting the way her slight wince from her pulled up cheek. Her eyebrows gathered in and her voice lost its intensity, clear to him at least that she was trying to scramble to reverse what she'd said with that indirect apology. Troy curled a hand outward and wiped it against the side of his pants, slightly drawn shoulders dropped before he leaned with his side against the back of the pickup truck. His gaze remained plastered on Cristine, who all but kept her attention on their packed supplies. A few loose curls bounced against the curve of her cheek and her dimple peeked out from the faint chewing motion she did, displaying her agitation with her. Her eyes remained downcast and her lips briefly parted, but she closed it again, as if she decided at the last moment to keep her comments to herself. Troy was curious about what she wanted to say.

The ambience between them off and for the first time ever flustered and uncertain. Neither able to properly react to this type of gloom. At least, Cristine wasn't. Troy was just caught off guard by her lukewarm responses. If it were any other situation, she'd definitely snap back at him, but she didn't. Hostility, anger, hardheadedness, the sarcastic jab and joke so now and then, the mutual respect and understanding… they'd often maneuvered around those situations. Cristine often challenged him in that manner. Had him experience a range of new and intense emotions he tried to adapt to and react to in his own way. But this sort of docile response originating from a loss this personal and close to them, that was entirely new and different. It was Cristine who was being more conscious and considerate of the situation, while Troy shrugged it off the majority of times and distracted himself. As if it never happened. Troy found his voice, looking around and scratched his throat, saying, "it's fine. Let's uh- let's not spook the fresh meat, huh?" Troy pushed his body so he stood tall again. He bit his lips after sucking them in and appeased Cristine with a nod. "We need absolute focus, it's going to be a long day."

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This may read a bit as a filler, but bear with me. This is the build up, a lot of angst and more. So excited! I enjoy reading each and every thought about how you think this secret, will unfold so do share them :) with me.
> 
> I want to stress that everyone on the Ranch is tense, distracted, and grieving. Even Cristine is in a certain state of mind where she won't know what happened and that Troy and her father/Madison did what they did unless she can read minds XD. She won't and can't put two and two together like that. Hell, it won't cross her mind that Troy would ever go this far (even his father and Madison were taken back in the show by what he did to the Trimbols) and murder their own because he felt like Mike owed him. Which is selfish, entitled and childish, but that's just my opinion and I won't justify that. Secondly, James and Madison covered up the murder to make it look like it was Walker (James has experience with that), which is easily believable given what he already did to them, is doing now, and has a vendetta and war with the Otto's and the Founding Fathers.
> 
> Also, Troy is a shit liar imo, but he can easily just brush the things he's done or justify them as if it never happened, especially if the people around him allow him to act this way. His behavior does reek of guilt to the audience cause WE know what he did, but no one bu outside knows what he's done. So that's why his behavior can be mistaken for grief (maybe he secretly does) by Cristine and is. Hence the way she's tiptoeing around Troy. We also see that in the show and a bit later on that Troy's processing and showing his emotions doesn't last long. He is without a doubt an emotional *mostly angry) individual and acts on them in stressful scenarios that make the situations worse and unpredictable. But on the other hand, he can just brush it off in a way it's eery and sociopathic I think. 
> 
> Any way sorry for the long A/N, but I wanted to also put my own personal thoughts out here and tried to put that into writing. I'd love to discuss this with you guys too and read your thoughts.


	40. Chapter 40

Despite Troy's push to make things right with Blake and stop ignoring him, Cristine wasn't going to focus on that right now. She was going to give herself time. Hell, she could barely look her father, the mastermind, properly in the eye. No. She was going to focus on teaching the new recruits as much as she could. Bulldozing their way through the re-animated corpses swarming towards them, the group of four cut a tactical pathway as they moved. The very air they fought through hung heavy, dry and noisy. Wanting to clear this is as fast as she could, most of Cristine's swings were on target the very first time, machete in her left and a free right hand to push back bodies if needed. The heat was so thick that sweating had become obsolete, it ran warmly into her clothes, only achieving further dehydration. She didn't shudder like she did at the start when the inhuman groans from their drying and stiffened flesh was in range. The reanimated swarmed toward anything that was different from their hivemind. The rotting smell that permeated the air everywhere, like the very oxygen they breathed was an unrefrigerated meat locker, the nausea constant and never adaptable. The groping hands and gnashing jaws of the infected were a true horror story. Now? Clearing the dead had become as much as a routine as waking up, sharpening your blade and loading a gun. 

"Hey, how long was that?" Troy asked Blake, panting and wiped the light sheen coating his face away. He took the lead in cutting down the infected. For him, it was a blessing to put his lifelong taught skills to good use while still having fun. The thrill left him craving for more, but he had to stay focused.

"Two minutes." Blake announced, smirking at the achievement of actually dealing with a small horde in such a small amount of time with just four people. 

"A new record huh." He muttered more to himself, pleased with the length of action it took and rolled his improvised weapon in a forward swing. "Ah, it's a wonderful thing." He sighed blissfully. This was his calling. His purpose in life and the thing that leveled out whatever stress or other dark urges he had. The best thing was that there were no real consequences for whatever he did now, not from his father, Jake or anyone. The atmosphere was strangely… pacific and the quartet sheathed their weapons and strolled back in the direction of the recruits. Half of them were in awe, while the others didn't show their expression or were as excited as their fearless leader. Troy briefly analyzed the crowd's demeanor and was more than happy with their reactions. "Now, who can tell me why we didn't just take 'em out guns blazing? It would be quicker and less of hassle."

"To save the bullets." One of the recruits answered.

"Not necessarily, we have enough bullets here to last us a lifetime. Anyone else?" Troy looked around and waited for someone else to blurt out anything really.

"Too much sound." Cole said and casually planted his hands inside his pockets. "Not enough sport too." He said jokingly.

Troy smiled and tipped his head down, "what else?" 

"Noise attracts them and if we're outside scouting or doing runs, we can't risk attracting a larger group of dead or the living for that matter. This needs to be done quietly and I guess it'll help us to kill a real life infected up close."

Troy took over the explanation from there on and confirmed most of Cole's answer. "That's right. It's no secret that the only way to kill an Infected is through the head." He tapped at the side of his head with and clarified, "aim for the temple, eye or brainstem. Anywhere that's soft and is able to penetrate the brain. If you hit the skull, your blade will skip off."

"Now everyone grab your silent weapon. We're going to do a little game to really put what you practiced to the test. We split up in groups of three so everyone gets a feel what you're working with before we move onto the real stuff." Troy split up the teams with each their respective captains and vice-captains. Troy was in charge of team 1 with Cristine as his vice-captain. Then followed team 2 under Blake's command with Jimmy as his vice-captain, and Coop commanded team 3 with Joe as his vice-captain. "We start from zero, the team with the most killed infected wins." 

  
-

"It's Jake! Jake's back!" Madison, Nick, and Hailey jogged towards the gate. In the distance, under the merciless sun that all but bleached the rocks from decades of erosion, two figures in hiking gears moved along foot. Hailey squinted her eyes, trying to shield the sun to clear her vision and hoped that it was indeed Alicia that returned with Jake. When Hailey was about to take her shift over Alicia asked her a favor, a really dangerous favor, which she swore she wouldn't tell anyone. 

_~_

_"What?!" _

_"Keep your voice down!" Alicia whispered harshly to her friend before pulling her with her to a more secluded area, away from the infirmary and nosy ears. Hailey's brows scrunched together deeply and she jerked her arm aside, before crossing it under her chest, open confusion and disbelief on her face._

_"I'm going after Jake. He doesn't know what he's gotten himself into," Alicia repeated, tone non-negotiable. After the news of the Trimbols… of Mike and Gretchen, tensions and emotions ran high. Hailey hadn't cried since the bodies were shown. She was just angry. Alicia could only listen to her friend's sobbing rants and furious vows of vengeance against Walker. It changed everything for Alicia too, who couldn't shake the feeling that something had happened to Jake. _

_"Jake didn't want anyone to know or stop him, I sure as hell couldn't convince him to let it go." Alicia brushed some loose strand behind her ears and sighed. "This changes things, Hailey. I'm worried about him."_

_"You don't think Walker's done something to him?" Hailey _

_"Maybe. Maybe not. We'd know. Just like we got to know with the Trimbols." _

_"But why now? Why wait?" Hailey asked, asking the right question that couldn't be answered but by the man who hade made their community's way of life hell._

_Alicia shook her head. She knew one thing for sure and that was that this Walker was a dangerous man. A man who didn't mind killing families. "He killed Travis; my stepdad… I don't know Hailey. I'm tired of losing people. And we haven't heard back from Jake in a while."_

_"What about you?" Hailey interjected, trying to trickle reason into this insane plan. She shook her head, disagreeing with her friend and pointing out the clear risks involved. "You can't just go out alone like that. It's not safe out there. Walker will kill you."_

_"It's not safe if we wait like this either, not knowing anything." Alicia pressed on, unnaturally calm and sure of her decision. "I've seen worse out there."_

_"What about your mom? Nick? I'm not going to lie to them if they ask-"_

_"What if it was Mike?"_

_Hailey froze, surprised by Alicia's bold question that struck a nerve. A deep and shaky exhale later and the blonde twisted her lips into a scowl of suppressed anger. "That's not fair and you know it." _

_"You'd do the same," Alicia said._

_"If he was alive, yeah, probably. Cristine would beat my ass, but I would… even if we weren't together anymore." Hailey sniffed and glanced at the dirt, shoulders slumping down and expression forlorn. "We talked… before he left. Said he was sorry and we made up. I wished him well and-" her voice shook and Hailey puffed out some air between her pouty lips, finding it hard to squeeze the words out. "I cared about him a lot. He didn't deserve it. Neither did Gretchen or their parents. They were good people."_

_"I know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that." Alicia planted her hands on her shoulders and rubbed her palms over their curves, comforting her and Hailey pulled her into a hug. _

_After the embrace, Hailey nodded and agree much to her friend's relief. "I'll cover for you, but I'm giving it two days tops and then I'll tell your family and the others."_

~

"Where's Alicia?" Was Hailey's first question when realizing the woman next to Jake wasn't her friend, but a total and complete stranger. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all the lovely and insightful comments previous chapter guys. Happy you guys are happy with the progress between Troy and Cristine and are also enjoying the story in general. This is a quite short chapter, but the events are moving with the training of the new recruits and surprise! Jake's back ;).
> 
> I'm also starting to like the Hailey x Alicia friendship. Don't quite know where I want to go with it, but just two girls around the same age being able to bond is really fun to write.
> 
> My mind is bursting with inspiration and since I'll be going on a break next week, I'm going to try to post another chapter today and hopefully one more tomorrow to compensate.


	41. - The Otto's -

"Walker seemed appeased by my offer to give him our bottled reserves." Troy stood at the sidelines of their living room, watching his older brother with unblinking eyes. It's been three whole days since Jake's betrayal to cross sides and sabotage _his_ plan to fight the Nation head on. The suggestion sounded ludicrous, entitled and Troy tried his best to snap at Jake's weak mentality. Their father, luckily, shut down Jake's suggestion they offer their water reserves to the Nation his face scrunching up in disgust.

"No!" Jeremiah whipped halfway around, glowering his eldest son up and down at the idiocy of his idea. "We might need them and they sound desperate."

Jake looked exhausted and it wasn't just because of the long trip back and forth and the time he'd been at the Nation. He had to convince his father or else all their sacrifices were for nothing. There needed to be more than fighting, killing and taking actions based solely on survival. They needed to make decisions based on living for a future. "They are. They're ready to take it from us if we can't come to some kind of agreement."

Troy couldn't hold his tongue anymore and his voice dripped with sarcasm, "they already tried to take the Ranch from us when we were fighting them… hell, we'd have won if you didn't betray us- your people and pull what you did." His accusation near the end was hot and brittle with fury. Meeting his brother's pale blue eyes head on, Troy raised his chin, jaw tense and the expression within them reeked of annoyed disdain for what his own blood did. "We had a plan and you ruined it."

"Just because you thrive on bloodshed and violence doesn't mean it's the only option little brother." Jake gave Troy a look. "When I heard what Walker did to the Trimbols, it made it more urgent to form this parley and do better. I'm trying to protect the Ranch with a long-term solution." Jake justified in an accusatory tone, which only drove the hot coal behind Troy's eyes to its next boiling point.

Troy scoffed, "the hell do you know about it? You haven't a damn clue what this Ranch is about! You never did and now you're ruining our chances of survival and put us at risk with a madman who'd scalp you… and you know what you'd let him. What's does your death wish look like?" His voice was lower now, a bit more controlled, but still seething with anger that is now Jake's target. How hypocritical and naïve was his brother?! He couldn't believe his father looked to him to lead this place when he was never here in the past. Now Jake dared to spout nonsense about him not protecting the Ranch when all he did was preach diplomacy and peace as if they were in fantasy land? Troy knew _he_ was the one that _always_ protected the Ranch at _any_ cost, but he was the problem?! Troy closed the distance between him and his brother and briefly glanced ignoring his father and everything else around him, the anger slowly simmering in his gut.

"You gonna fight for what's yours like I have or you gonna surrender it like some coward, huh?" He asked his brother. It was a question that had been on his mind longer than today, even before the end of the world. Heck, ever since Jake left for college, studied to become a layer, he'd secretly admonish his brother for not ever being here.

"That's not your call, is it?" Jake answered back, knowing that his younger brother simply wanted to get a rise out of him. He knew Troy like the back of his hand and the hurt of losing his best friend had cut deeper than a knife in the back. Him going to the Nation felt like betrayal to Troy, but it wasn't

"No. You gonna fight or you gonna surrender?" Troy repeated the question and stepped even closer to his brother who wasn't falling for his taunts. Inside, he sneered as Jake wasn't even motivated or angry enough over the fact that he just left them defenseless, weaker and treated the Ranch as a joke... a hobby. This was his home!

Then Jake said something to Troy that did hit a nerve, "you're not in charge are you?" Flexing his fist, Troy finally let his anger get the best of him and slammed his fist down on Jake's face.

Angrily, Jeremiah darted towards his son. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he demanded, raising his hand and hit Troy across the face.

“Dad, no!” Jake called, but his father wouldn’t listen as he continued to hit Troy a second time. He got between them the third time Jeremiah wanted to strike his brother. "Dad stop!" Jake put himself as a shield between his father and Troy and pushed the elder man back, panting roughly.

"God damn it!" Jeremiah cussed and cradled his beating hand. His body wasn't pliable anymore and Troy had grown and became sturdier. Grinding his teeth, Jeremiah looked up at his sons. Troy; the chip on his shoulders and Jake; the weak crybaby. He'd always seen them as children, didn't think of them as men and came to mind on his sober days. Jeremiah jabbed a finger at the two and his tone darkened, "we're not attacking. The Nation's on sharp again and will think twice before coming back. You go and focus on the tasks that I gave you boy or I swear to god." He then glowered at Jake, "our water reserves stay here. We might need them."

"We have the wells-"

"And if they go dry? Have you ever thought about a possible drought coming? Water is the new currency and I'm not going to waste all of that with those assholes."

"And risk war?" Jake asked in disbelief at his father's pride.

"We're already at war! Always have been even before the Apocalypse! You think they'll be satisfied by one drop and not demand a gallon?" Jeremiah palmed his beating hand and tauntingly asked his eldest, "the bleeding hearts of those savages finally got to you Jake?"

"Dad we can lose everything if we can't make room to meet the Nation halfway."

"We already lost Phil, Vernon and his family! They're here to slaughter us and I'll let this place burn before I ever give it up." Jeremiah sneered, ending the conversation once and for all. "I'm still alive and this is my property and the two of you best get that through your minds."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some insight in the Otto family. Also, today is a double update. Click next to read the chapter!


	42. Chapter 42

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Had fun writing this chapter :).

"Third time's the charm," Cristine commented as she cleaned the cut underneath Troy's eye, just on top of his cheekbone. Troy just came waltzing in the infirmary during her shift, oozing a restless energy that was a mixture of rage and something rare she'd almost say he looked vulnerable. She blinked at the red streak near his cheek that had almost fully healed, same with his right eye where Madison had spooned it, but it was swollen again… a direct blow. Cristine hadn't ask Troy what caused it and just grabbed some antiseptic, Troy automatically went to sit down on one of the cots. It was the third time Cristine had to tend to Troy's injury in the infirmary one way or another and it was him who willingly came here.

"Yeah? Doesn't feel like it. Just sounds like the third time the situation grows worse than last time," Troy mused while looking at the ceiling and the corner of his mouth twitched when Cristine swiped at his reopened injury with the disinfectant solution.

Cristine patted the damaged skin near his eyes dry with a clean towel and looked at her hands before discarding the waste in the medical bin. She didn't put much thought to her words, too focused on planting it against his blood soaked eye. "Jake made it worse and now Alicia's volunteered to stay as a hostage at the Nation while we have one of theirs."

"Heard Hailey knew."

"Yup," Cristine the word popped out of her mouth, but Troy sensed the agitation even if it didn't seem to hinder her steady hands touching and prodding at his face. "My dad and Dolores are lecturing her as we speak. They were pretty pissed… Madison's obviously pissed."

"Well her daughter is in the hands of our enemy. But Indians are pretty strict with their proceedings and rituals so they won't hurt her or they risk loosing one of their own. Jake thinks she's safe or he wouldn't have left her there. I believe him." Heck, it was always Jake who protected him, even today when Troy blew over his top and their dad punched him in the face, Jake protected him. Some things in his family never changed, even after so many years.

Cristine scoffed hearing her friend's name and made an irritated expression mirroring Troy's. "Jake kind of forced everyone's hand with that." Cristine wiped her hands on her pants and stepped back and crossed her arms over each other, indicating she was done and asked, "how's Jeremiah?"

"Rightfully pissed." Troy dropped his head and ran his palms over his pale greyish green uniform pants, chewing on the inside of his lip near the corner. "But he's wise to not back Jake's plan."

"But he's giving him a chance to play it out?" The question emerged from her mouth amid brief silence, "why? If he already knows your father doesn't want to give them our water reserves." Cristine didn't understand why Jeremiah wasn't more invested in making a clear-cut decision with the Ranch. Like her father had when he chose her and Troy's side last time they were all together, as brief as that plan lasted, it was better than the situation they were in at the moment. They'd play their last card to actually win.

"Cause even if this parley is clearly a snakebit, this is Jake's play. And Jake's always been our family's wonder boy." Moving his tense jaw from left to right, Troy looked at the entrance of the infirmary and went completely still. His voice a gravely whisper laced with conflicting emotions. Troy's anger was no longer about the situation - it had changed into complicated family issues. Issues Cristine knew all too well. She spotted the signs of a dysfunctional family like she was staring at her own. And she often talk with Jake of the things of old. Only thing was Troy, in particular, still suffered from his father's rage and took it. Watching his slanted profile silently, Cristine tapped her finger on the end of her left elbow, not sure what she could say to better the situation, but distract his mind with something else. The recent offer Troy made came to mind when her family suffocated her and she left for her own sanity to man outpost Beta.

"The situation is shit, I know. But you once said I could come to you if I wanted to vent or blow of steam." Cristine swallowed thickly, eyes never moving away when the blue darted back at her, his brows scrunched up lightly. The weight of them nearly pinning her to the ground and elaborated, "so let's do that. We go out to clear some dead or hunt if that can help put everything in perspective." Cristine waited until Troy broke the long stare off. The corners of his eyes wrinkled, drawing attention to their glazed over sheen of contemplation. Troy's eyes were almost translucent, glossy, the color too soft to be turquoise and too bright to be baby blue.

The muscles in his body visibly relaxed and his face did as well. But the silent wonder was a question that Troy didn't ask out loud, but was on the tip of his tongue. Why? Troy swallowed, but he was clearly pondering an answer that made sense to him other than her trying to lessen his worries like he had done. She was mindful of it ever since they acknowledged that they finally moved past their spiraling friendship and really trust one another. Troy's mouth relaxed and Cristine even noticed that the color of his eyes darkened, growing into a deeper blue as he continued to peer at her. Flickers of thoughts flew by on his face, his steady gaze expressed a silent and hidden gratitude that fit his personality more than a verbal ' thank you' like most.

-

Infected shambled aimlessly like ghostly husks of their original selves, their slack jaws emitted rusty groans that echoed well enough between the valleys. One of the teetering dead swayed from his group and gnarled at the approaching shadow that could be its next potential meal. It lunged forward only to freeze as a curved knife plunged through its forehead. Cristine grunted when yanking the blade out and watched the body drop down to the concrete with a splat of moist dead weight. She rolled the weight of her weapon between her palms, senses on sharp when the before recurring croaky snarls brought her back to the nightmarish scenery. Nickle colored eyes, bloated and grey skin. In a fluid motion the blow to the brittle skull, a cracking noise, smashed through membranes of numerous scalps, into layers of dura mater, and pulpy gray gelatin of brain matter. Her blades were slick with blood and grey chunks from stabbing her way through the dead. Looking at the eggplant spatters on the ground, the shapes register. A dozen, maybe more bodies lay akimbo. The genders and ages were obscured by the carnage, the greyish skin tones and broken skulls. Cristine surveyed the fallen soul cases and inhaled deeply when she made eye contact with the lifeless, alien eyes staring right back at her.

She looked away and prowled through the rocks, clutching the solid hilt of the high quality carbon steel in her hand and snuck on her toes to make as little sound as she could. While Troy's game was juvenile, it felt so good for her muscles and bones to be active and out again, even if it was just for a day. A distant sound of growling dead that lessened and lessened with every second made her perk, aware that someone was probably cutting some down. She pressed her body to the side of the high rock wall and slid forward and peeked over the corner to see who it was and if the person needed any help. That ridiculous thought soon fled her mind when she saw Troy hack, swipe and mutilate some dead like a damn kid playing a fun game. She balanced her knife in her palm, waiting for him to finish, but also ready in case should she step in… in the off-chance Troy actually needed any back-up. His skills were as raw, relaxed yet precise as she remembered them to be. Cristine didn't even bother hiding behind the rocks and instead leaned against them, head tilted and face slack.

After a minute or so, the noise completely died down, leaving a visibly flushed Troy standing amid the circle of cut limbs, blood and gore. The distasteful smell and flies buzzing in the rotten matter and darkened and clogged liquid nauseating to the nose and eyes alike. Troy threw his head back, panting and relishing in the adrenaline rushed activity of putting down the half a dozen infected all by himself.

"How many does that make? A hundred?" Troy glanced over his shoulder, the natural smile of excited glee lighting his face up. Chest moving up and down, he made a gesture to the ground with his machete, pointing at the littered bodies and counted them.

"Seventy-three." Troy pushed his shoulder against his nose to wipe the perspiration from his face. The splatters of blood on his face and neck painted a savage look of a man used to violence and murder. Moving amid the mutilated and akimbo limbs and human remains, Troy walked over to her. "How many did you get?"

"I still don't keep track of how many I put down Troy," Cristine said, her tune barely contained any excitement. Cristine always went against the grain and she wasn't impressed by the time boxing or counting of the dead game the guys still played.

Troy made a face and flicked his wrist, cleaning the silver of his machete of most it's remains. In the meantime he gawked Cristine up and down and a weird smile crept up his face. "Hey. You called me. Besides, if you're always that serious you won't ever enjoy a thing in life." Troy's comment was more of a jab at her forbidding behavior so he chuckled when she snapped at him with a click of the tongue.

Cristine pointed the end of her blade at him with a scowl on her face, "and that attitude right there is going to give the new recruits fake courage that they can do what you do and die." The casualty of Troy's non-verbal counter in the form of that infuriating smirk elicited another scowl from her. Hand on her hips and chin raised, her eyes contracted and the muscles around the outer area visibly tightened. "At least be mindful around them, I didn't come here to patch people up or amputate limbs."

Troy kind of enjoyed hearing Cristine complain that he should set an example, but Troy didn't see any harm in enjoying his freedom when no one was around. He knew when to be serious and when not. When to set that model example. Right now, she was the only one around to witness him relax and let loose. Troy needed it after these hectic few four days. With a tilt of the head Troy commented rather casual, "huh. You really are nitpicker. We'll be fine... the recruits will be fine. We taught them well. Come on then, let's make sure we vent." Cristine scowled, which only made Troy's smirk grow.

-

Cristine pressed her body against the rock wall. She ad Troy had taken a foot trail that led them down and halfway inside the pinnacle they stood on fifteen minutes ago. Troy slightly bend forward to look past the top of Cristine's head. Just around the curve of the trail, there was a circular hewn out piece of rock blocked by a little over a dozen dead. A group of unfortunate hikers from the way they were dressed. They were docile and didn't do much, not even growl.

"You think we can take them all?" Cristine asked, crouching down and scrutinizing the blind spots and opening.

"Nah, too cramped, we won't have enough momentum to take 'em down," Troy said and licked his lips before unconsciously reaching for his hand gun, but Cristine grasped the back of his hand and shook her head.

"The sound will echo and who knows what else we'll end up attracting." She bit her lip and thought deeply before remembering something else. "There's a silencer in my bag." She counted the bullets in her gun and continued. "I have five rounds left in my clip. What? Only silent weapons. That's what you said?" She added at his judging eyes that she wasn't fully loaded.

"I have a full clip. What's your plan?"

Cristine looked at the catatonic corpses, they were spread evenly over the area. "Take them out one by one with the bullets first then our machetes. I'll grab their attention by throwing some rocks while you shoot. Think you can get direct shots?"

Troy unequivocally answered with excitement in his voice, "yeah, shouldn't be a problem. We just need to switch positions."

One. Two. Four.

Every time Cristine gained a walker's attention by chucking rocks on its body, Troy swiftly delivered a fatal headshot. Normally, it wouldn't be surprising how accurate his shots were, but given his eye injury it left Cristine pleasantly impressed. Troy really was made for this.

"Ten rounds left." Troy counted when he was about to lift his arms again. "We shouldn't waste bullets since we don't know what we'll come across later. There's seven of them left, we can take them."

"Okay." Following his example, Cristine unclasped her weapon from her hip and gripped her cleaver inside her left hand. Her hunting knife and half loaded pistol were tucked in the back of her pants. After a sure nod, Troy charged first with Cristine hot on his heels. The docile infected were stirred by the rush of fresh flesh and sudden footsteps. They turned around to look at the potential meal after who knows how long. Cristine swung her machete horizontally to slice the head in two of the closest one to her. Some blood splattered on her shirt from the near cut. The slain infected immediately dropped to the ground and she went for another.

In the meantime, Troy already put out the light of three infected and was about to deal with his fourth kill when Cristine ended her second. Not unlike him, he toyed and agitated the dead by cutting off limbs or stabbing them first before he delivered the final blow. There was vigor and purpose in Troy's every step and movement, as if he awakened from a long slumber. The genuine twist of his lips combined with the red splatters on his face and jacket was somewhat morbid and even frightening. Troy's persona and antics were things Cristine had gotten used to. It was part of him and she doubt it would ever change. Troy was the product of violence that was locked up away for far too long.

Cristine wanted to clear this path as fast as she could. Therefore, most of her blows were precise, to the point and less taunting than Troy's. The very air they fought through, hung heavy, dry and noisy. The heat was so thick, it made the perspiration run deeper into her uniform, only achieving further thirst.

"Aah! This never gets old!" Troy sighed with nothing but content when the last two dead simultaneously fell on the ground. Panting, he closed his eyes and savored the moment, but never released his grip around his blade. For the first time in a long while did his body and mind relaxed. There were no expectations, no orders to give or things to do. He was in control and he was truly alive.

Catching her breath, Cristine wiped her forehead with the back of her sleeve. As she adjusted her gloves and checked her bag, Troy asked, "you okay?" She nodded and he handed her his water flask. Stepping passed the dead, he slightly bend forward to look down from the edge. A faint breeze tussled through his set hair, the air brought hints of the dry and grainy sand particles up. The rush of the wind tickled through his ears. "That's a long way down."

"You ever been to these parts?" Cristine joined him and visibly grimaced at how high they were before stepping back again until she touched the rock walls. She didn't fear heights, but vertigo was always a bitch.

Troy shook his head and took a deep gulp from his water, the temperature lukewarm but welcome in his throat. "Not much, but from these hikers, I'd say it was popular place for tourists. Let's keep moving. We only have a few hours of sunlight left."

"Right, let's go."

The hiking path further ahead widened than the first part of the trail and the two could walk side by side. The further the ascend, the more stony alp that surrounded them. Troy noticed a few patches of dark green growing through cracks of the stone, competing for sunlight. If something grew here this green... it meant there was a source of water. Underneath their dappled shade the harshness of the midday sun was muted but it did little to make the steep incline any easier. Cristine lifted her eyes to the distance ahead. "Is that an entrance?" The path led them at the shallow opening of a cavern that had wormed its way into the mountain. Its general shape was ovoid, the walls below the ridge were smoothly curved to the floor, the walls above arched a few feet up. With the right supplies and equipment it looked like a decent spot/

Troy walked at the front, vigilant of their surrounding. Once inside, the air significantly cooled down and Troy touched the rock walls that was definitely a lot cooler than outside. "There must be a water source running between the rocks." He rubbed his damp fingers together and took a step back and having seen enough turned in Cristine's direction again. "With the right supplies and equipment this is a pretty good spot we can use as a lookout post."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Cristine is really doing her best to comfort Troy in her own way. I thought it was cute even though the thought of putting down the dead is kind of weird, it fits Troy to a T as you can see!


	43. - Troy & Cristine -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hold on tight ya'll this is gonna be a very interesting chapter!

Grains of dust arose from the dirt road as it reached for the atmosphere. The landscape was empty with a faint glow under the burnt sky. In the olden days, such a view would embody a feel of boredom for Cristine. But the occasional dead they passed on the way back to the Ranch was cause of alertness. That, and the chance of the Nation watching them. As the engine of the truck revved, Troy clutched the brake and gave the gas pedal a push. With one hand clasped around the wheel and the other lazily tapping on the edge of his pulled down window, Troy focused on the road, but occasionally glanced Cristine from the corner of his gaze. "A lot of dead roaming around lately. Glad we spotted them." The brunette said out loud and retold the events." Good call." Troy wanted to say more and bring up what occurred just before they left then thinking better of it pursed his lips.

"Yeah," Cristine muttered her answer, fidgeting with her hands and brushed her fingers through the front of her curls and went silent again, disengaging from the conversation. Her pulse thumped just thinking about it and she was relieved didn't bring it up. Cristine frowned and she twisted her head to look out the window. Still, her mind couldn't help but wonder to the moment that just made this initially 30-minute trip back that much longer. _"Why now out of all times and why with him?"_

-

_Cristine's heart thundered when she felt the large hand clamp around her mouth, smothering the sound lest the cat walking dead heard her. He pulled her into his body and Cristine struggled, body responding before her brains and senses caught up that it was Troy. Breathing harshly through her flaring nostrils when that same hand relaxed, but was still firm pressed against her mouth and into his chest with his other arm keeping both her arms locked at the sides of her body. _

_"We won't make it to the truck from here," Troy whispered near the back of her ear, voice as low and quiet as he could. His glossy eyes, stretched a bit, in awe at the infected, before he asserted control and felt Cristine tense in his hold. "We wait it out." He felt her slightly relax and the up and down movement meant she'd acknowledged his warning. Slowly, but gradually Troy stepped back with thoughtful moves, ignoring the racing of his excited heart and the pulse of Cristine's. Even Troy wasn't that crazy to charge into this much dead and their peripherals darkened bit by bit, squeezing back between the crevices of the path they took the time to squeeze back through. He didn't know this area with rocks and cliffs as best given that they never really came here, but it was best to retreat. _

_Troy grunted when he felt the shorter woman jab him with the end of her elbow and let go. She whipped her head in his direction, raised her head, frustration with her eyes and Troy shrugged unapologetically for saving her life and by extension his ass. But Cristine let that moment of flustered irritation go as quick as it'd come and she leaned into the jaggy rocks, head raised and chest deflating from the heavy sigh. "So much for a quick run." _

_Troy's eyes remained trained on the crack of light and the dusky and washed out looking corpses strolling by like a traffic. The air thick, parched, and each breath felt like inhaling a fire's radiating heat. Looking over his shoulder, he watched Cristine survey the infected. "Nothing we can do about it. These seemed to have migrated. They're heading the opposite way of the Ranch, but best to be cautious." The slow dead, like ill-mannered soldiers marched like masters of the environment. Scanning the extension of it that kept going and going, Troy wondered under his breath, "we checked the forcefield before coming here and nothing was compromised. Let's just hope no loud activity back home alarms them." Troy wiped the back of his neck, eyes peering at the army of the dead. _

_"Let's hope so." Cristine's brows lined with worry. She watched. The distant husks of a hive mind that could be summoned by the most silliest of sounds moved sluggishly. They lacked communication, but moved like one sentient mass. Their groans and snarls were audible. It was always a mystery how, when and where one came from and grew into a horde, but the only signals that went through the walking cadavers was their muscle memories to keep moving without aim. No intelligence or sense of self motivated them forward._

_"What are you thinking doc?" _

_Cristine grimaced when Troy called her that. It was hard to determine from their vantage point, but she saw signals that suggested she already had her advice ready. She looked at Troy on her right. "It's been a while since I've seen a horde again."_

_"It's still not as big as the one we were played possum in." Troy reminisced with one of his bizarre smirks. _

_"Don't remind me." Cristine rolled her eyes and pushed her back into the rocks again. "Something. Somewhere probably attracted the smaller groups like mosquitoes drawn to a light."_

_"Your hive mind theory, right?" Troy added, already knowing the answer from the back of his head like with all the research. "One or two become aggressive or distracted by something and it travels to the rest like a chain reaction." He commented in a crisp voice and his mind traveled back to all the knowledge they gained just from going out and testing. It was worthwhile. Troy documented all his field tests, but with the Nation he kind of missed it._

_Cristine cut in, wanting to wrap this conversation and lightly pushed at his arm to go back some more just in case, "let's just wait it out like you said," she whispered. _

_"The militia is trained for this." Troy wasn't as anxious as his companion, who chewed on her lip with her eyes on the slow traffic jam of the dead. She didn't react and Troy sighed, "Everyone back home is safe."_

_"Nowhere is safe." Cristine didn't mean for her whisper to come out as harshly as it did and Troy tilted his head, surprised by the ferocity of her response. Pinching the bridge of her nose, Cristine looked in space before apologizing, "sorry, it's not you. I've just been thinking about them. How they even slaughtered Gretchen… it made me think of Hailey." The moment Cristine finished that last sentence, she breathed out and felt sick of the idea of losing her sister in any way, shape or form. _

_"Hailey's alive," Troy stated the obvious, watching with a wary scrutiny as Cristine's mouth fell slack, but the rest of her features went taut. Troy lined the outline of his holster absently and repeated. "She's alive and she'll stay that way cause she's safe… with walls, a militia, and her family." He assured the woman and shifted on his feet and scooted over as much as the narrows space of the flanking rocks allowed him to and touched her arm. His grip just right and a silent beckon. "And those assholes will pay, alright?" _

_Cristine shut her eyes, thinking of the right words she wanted to say and decided to just say it, "for what it's worth, I'm glad you didn't go after them." Cristine thought she saw Troy tense and knew this subject was delicate and he'd been purposely avoiding it. "I get if you don't want to talk about it and we won't. I'm just saying that I'm glad they didn't get to you." Her voice was steady, but the trace of relief that Troy detected through that facade of a strong exterior surprised him. More than he could put in words or realize that she was walking around with these thoughts…. That she actually _ ** _worried_ ** _ about him. Troy's grip around her arm faltered and he got really quiet. _

_He _ ** _almost_ ** _ regretted maintaining eye contact with her, but steeled his gaze when Cristine kept staring back, face fully relaxed and eyes filled with flickers of light even in the dimmed light. It had been a while since she he'd seen Cristine in action. But her time as their full-time medic hadn't impaired her skills. They reminded him of the person with a tempered violence born of a visceral need to fight and protect. Troy wanted to see it in all its rawness again, like he did in the cabin. He was slightly taken aback by their closeness, but he didn't move back. He heard her dyspneic breaths in sync with his as they stood in the rock's crevices, hiding from the passing dead. The dry snarls weren't as intrusive as her looking beyond his skin. They were... different, but Troy couldn't figure out why that was. It was as if an invisible weight pulled at his eyes and held them pinned. Troy felt like looking into the endless stretch of an onyx colored sky. Troy leaned forward, his movement limited the already narrow space between their bodies even more. He watched the embers of open relief inside her eyes fade into curiosity, darting back and forth his hammering eyes. _

_Blinking, Troy felt the bones of his muscles relaxed one by one. He dipped his head down, curious of what else he'd see in her condensed look. He gulped, recalling the moments when neither of them had any hidden agendas. That's when their goals aligned and it was a lot easier to converse with the woman. To bare what other pieces of himself he could see in her. He didn't seem to disgust her anymore. Even if she never outright said it out loud, it was clear from her actions that Cristine trusted him, even cared about his fate. Troy _ ** _had_ ** _ been obsessively thinking about last night and debated whether to come clean of what he did during his fit. James urged him not to and take this to the grave, commenting that Cristine didn't have to know. That the secret didn't risk being divulged to anyone else, but Troy wasn't so sure about that. Cristine was _ ** _waiting_ ** _ for him to bring it up and hadn't explicitly asked a him about it, but Troy figured the woman would understand, despite it not going as how it was supposed to. She could keep it under wraps, because she knew what was at stake and they'd lost so much already. They weren't planning on losing. _

_Realizing her eyes wouldn't stray from his, Troy anticipated what came next. Their tense impasses never moved passed silent battles like these. He didn't know when this dispute of looking away being the same as surrender began, but it had taken a different meaning. At the start it was pure hostility, then understanding. Recently their eye contact was a subtle form of communication that shifted between respect and understanding. Sometimes, secrecy when making the complicated, but necessary calls. Now, in this moment, it was a whirlpool of new emotions and signs he couldn't, but wanted to, decipher. He felt the back of his throat tighten when Cristine softly brushed the tip of her nose against his with a light tilt of the head. The gesture was quiet, careful, and so sudden Troy wasn’t sure what to make of it. Or what in meant. But he mimicked the motion. He felt the inside of his chest constrict, the sensation moved down his stomach when her dark eyes flickered up and down his features and they stretched slightly in size. Moving his eyes, they watched the way her full lips parted and broke the rapture._

_Finally, Cristine opened her mouth to speak, voice hoarse, ignoring the pounding her throat, "I think they're gone." She heard a deep breath and wasn't sure if it was her or Troy. But her mind finally caught up with what was about to happen. The rational part finally loud enough to overshadow emotional impulsivity. Cristine raised the clenched hand occupied with her knife and pressed her fist into the curve of Troy's shoulder. She gave him a light push, putting a few inches between their bodies and faces despite it not being much because of the tightness of the space. Pursing her lips into a straight line, Cristine focused on his blood spattered neck before organizing her rapid and equally confused thoughts. What was about to happen just now, Cristine was relieved it hadn't. Relieved she stopped them at the last moment. But why _ ** _now_ ** _ of all times? Why with _ ** _him? _ ** _When it was pure focus they needed. Hearing another deep intake of a sharp breath, Cristine pushed down all complex feelings before her eyes dared to gaze up again, trying not to flinch at the bright, focused blue. Near the edge, she saw his mystifying and disconcerting frown and Cristine whispered, tone final, "we should go." _

_Taking a deep breath to fight the urge to pretend he hadn't heard her Cristine, Troy was disgruntled that he hadn't deciphered the emotion in her dark eyes. That whatever was going to happen next in that moment would reveal it to him and she stopped it. But her hushed words of finality shook his mind back to its usual alertness. The gleam in Cristine's gaze dissolved before she snapped her head in the direction of the entrance, breaking contact. Troy's tongue flit over his lower lip and with his senses confused, which he blamed on the rush of adrenaline, and his mind struggling to explain this uncontrolled and obsessive behavior around her. Troy wrapped his hand around his blade. The rough outline dug into his skin until it hurt and the pain cleared his mind. "I'll call in back home." The stroke of red near her temple caught his attention and Troy coolly reminded her of the wound, "make sure you get that checked out when we return." He saw her muscles relax one by one after she in response. Troy slithered out, even slightly pulling Cristine back so he could go out first and surveyed the surrounding area. When he was sure the coast was clear, Troy turned and met her gaze and made a positive nod with the head that it was safe. _

-

Troy blinked and from the driver seat searching for the woman's eyes only to see her looking outside. It was clear from her crossed arms, the averted and closed body language that she was lost in thought. He wondered if she'd thought about back then. The remainder of the trip back to the Ranch left a peculiar atmosphere between the two people inside the truck. After, driving through the gates, Troy hit the brakes in the driver's seat, and turned the engine off with a flick of the wrist. At this point, Cristine was just happy to be back and wanted to jump out of the vehicle when the door was halfway open.

"Cristine."

Cristine felt her right eyelid twitch and rotated her jaw when her feet hit the ground. She schooled her features and turned her body to look at Troy. The look on his face was thoughtful if she had to give that expression of his a label.

"Going out helped. " Troy lightly chewed on his lower lip with his canine and briefly avoided her steady and unblinking gaze, "also, don't be too hard on yourself for not doing enough. You are." Troy pried into her eyes for a long while, genuine about the woman's concern over her family. He did see her eyebrows relax after ensuring her of her role and nodded.

"You too." There was a shift on Troy's face, surprised by her quick response. Troy looked straight ahead with a shifting expression and he reeled his palm and fingers through his full head of hair and looked back at her. The corner of his lip twitch up, lasting only a few seconds when he spotted Madison approaching with a severe expression on her face. He shifted in his seat, not liking the way she looked and his expression changed, this time for the worst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fgjgjodjoff, I'm literally squealing cause I was debating whether or not I wanted to add this chapter cause it might feel like filler fluff, which finally after 2,5 books with more than 150K words of the slowest burn I've ever, if only, written. 
> 
> But given the progress and the building tension between these two, I don't regret it. I do hope this was moreso in character for Troy. For now, for me he is taken aback by it and I'm leaving what you guys make out of his reaction and what he true feels and what could have happened to everyone's personal opinion and interpretation! (Also yes, this is a trope) 
> 
> Also, a hint to what will happen next chapter perhaps? Thoughts about Madison? Will Cristine ever find out?


	44. - Troy & Madison & James -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I''m currently on a break and have time to think out the direction and plot of my stories and post more chapters than usual. So here ya'll go!

James looked at Madison as if she were crazy. Well, not crazy, the explanation made a lot of sense, but he wasn't comfortable to allow the woman to just freely waltz in here and demand. They didn't have people to spare for a rescue mission, especially with tensions high and a parley. Sign-ups increased after the Trimbols, yes, but the skills of the militia as a whole weren't as stable or harnessed as before. Palming the back of his neck, sighing, James addressed the woman, "listen, I understand that you're concerned about your daughter, but we can't risk the Nation attacking us."

"This isn't up for debate James," Madison retorted, gesturing at their back and forth and nipped his unbending certitude to save Alicia at the bud. "Walker is violent and brutal. He's playing us. I won't let her life be forfeit, I have to get Alicia out of there." And she was going to get her daughter out, by any means necessary. Her face was stiff, possessively obstinate to have this _father_ with children as well see where she was coming from. "You would do the exact same thing if it were either Hailey or Cristine back there."

A crooked movement tilted the ends of the white-haired man's lips, but not even his eyebrow twitched when the mother brought it up. "I won't deny that Madison," James's tune lowered and raised his head, "but I also know neither would put themselves in that situation to begin with. Jeremiah told me Alicia volunteered."

"She's only eighteen! And your daughter knew and still didn't tell anyone of the risk she took!" The volume of her voice only seemed to rise, incredulous and frustrated with James his words. Darting her eyes in Troy's direction, who stood at a distance near the sidelines like some side-character while the grown-ups did the talking. She placated Troy with force and obligation for what she'd done for him last night and the youngest Otto followed through. Once their eyes connected, Troy briefly lowered his, chewing on his lip with a reserved stillness of a child scolded. Knowing he'd done something he had to pay the debt of. His hands were inside his pockets, reclusive of the conversation, but Madison would have none of that.

"I lectured my daughter and what she did was stupid. It still doesn't negate the fact that Alicia did what she wanted. Besides, anyone who doesn't have the green light to go out doesn't. We can't spare anyone from the militia if we need our men later on."

Madison's face contorted from the insult of James's statement. "We're wasting time. I'm not sitting on my ass while my daughter is with that man."

James slightly shook his head. He was keeping their community safe and respecting Jeremiah's wishes. He wasn't going to risk _his family _and put at risk at the whims of one. He didn't do it for Vernon and he wasn't about to do it for her either. This parley was a joke and for once, James didn't mind Jeremiah's lack of care and bullheadedness. Dropping his shoulder simultaneously with a deep exhale, James decided to take a different approach. He could garner sympathy for the woman's concern and her anger was understandable, he wasn't _heartless_ of the dilemma. His pragmatic talk clearly put the woman on edge and he actually liked Madison enough to appease her, "Jeremiah says that this is Jake's play and at least wants to give his son a chance to-"

"Troy backs it." Madison wasn't going to listen to the ramblings of an old man looked back at Troy after making her statement, hoping them being in the majority would be enough to acquiesce. The baby blue gaze wandered from her to their silent spectator. Narrowing her eyes in indignation at his nonchalance, Madison had a hard time picking through and swaying the family man. Rarely had it been a challenge for Madison to influence the people around her and she thought she had James on her side. It was good to know that she probably never did. There was this bizarre disconnect with James. It completely caught Madison off-guard. The bonding over their children and the safety of their families non-existent when it truly mattered. James his comfortable indifference flabbergasted Madison.

A cynical smirk stretched James's thin lips when watching Jeremiah's youngest and troubled son. Troy shifted about, but was also so unnaturally still. He was usually withdrawn, but always had people around him even if he never forced attention on him. His men respected Troy and he was a responsible and fit leader. Even Cristine attested to that… it was just his _lack_ of control over his emotions and _volatility_ that put him in situations like this. With raised brows, James turned away from Madison to really _look_ at Troy. He didn't look away as he did when Madison stared at him. _Good_. James thought. It wasn't natural to avert your gaze from one you trusted. It created distance and a lack of self-worth. _Weakness_. And Troy wasn't weak. James protected Troy, Jake and Tracy from the Nation's harassment and intimidation pre-apocalypse. Killed the trespassers. There was a familiar feel in James his chest and synapses that reminded Troy of Cristine and he vaguely pieced together that in a way his daughter would appreciate it that he'd protect her friend. "I know you _think_ you do son, but being coerced isn't backing someone up. It's called blackmail and frankly if that's needed to really trust someone to do something for you and not out of _loyalty_, you need to watch your back." James explained the silent young man coolly, whose expression was open with wonder and confusion. It was probably odd to hear him speak about said coercer as if she wasn't present in the room and was surprised by his words. "It means their dependability only goes so far. They'll eventually put you down like a burdensome stray."

"Let's put that to test then." Madison's pupils dilated, chin high and guarding her personal space. The acrid tune behind her voice was tens and didn't leave room for interpretation. Her lips curled, "since my loyalty means jack shit to you, you don't mind if the Ranch knows what really happened? How you scalped your good friend going on for forty years, sawed that of his wife and children to cover it up. I'm sure people are interested in _that_ story."

James watched Troy shift on his legs about, a nervous and antsy tick. "Hm," James nodded to himself with a hum as if he'd made his point without having to lift a finger. He cocked a brow at Troy and gave him a look that said 'see?' before turning to Madison. His eyes looked like her retort was amusing, but his face didn't. Callous eyes that didn't allow reading the thoughts that went through his head. "The word of a stranger whose been here for a week against that of a well-respected Founding Father and Otto's youngest of kin…" Presenting the possible scenario of how that would turn out and as much as Madison tried to disagree she clearly knew he was right. "We both know how that will play out."

"I have my family to think about." Madison glared at Jeremiah with a made up mind. She wasn't afraid of this man that thought he had the upper hand. She'd force him if that was necessary. Bend his arm. And it seemed that was in necessary. If he was going to play it like this, she'd rip away what James loved and cherished. She would use his loved ones so their goals aligned and he'd help her save Alicia. That was the only thing that mattered. To hell with this place if her children weren't safe.

"We all do," James commented.

"Then you don't mind if your daughters hear what their father's done." As brief as it was, Madison noted the light twitch of his muscle near the corner of his nostril. She stepped within James personal space like a snake who had slithered her way around from another vantage point. "What he did in the name of family. What he convinces himself that the daughter he desperately wants to make things right with will understand. She won't. Because she's different than us. This is a line Cristine won't ever cross even if you've convinced yourself that she would. She will resent you."

During the heated exchanged, filled with words of hidden and not so hidden threats, Troy twitched at Madison's statement and frowned. She didn't know Cristine like he did. All the conversations the two of them had. The plans they discussed. Sacrifices they needed to make to maintain law and order. That was how they worked even if it did cross lines. Troy'd coaxed her after what James and Blake had done and she understood that too, eventually. Trust and vows of loyalty always came first. Troy never questioned any of that, not after all the progress they made. He lost control with the Trimbols, but Cristine would understand like her father did. With that conviction, Troy noted to how Madison poked and prodded James. If there was a slither of truth to what Madison said, it would only be because the mother would twist it and turn Cristine against her family. Against _him_. Troy tipped his chin down and rubbed his faintly bruised knuckles with his calloused fingertips. He wouldn't stand for _anyone_ trying ruin his loyalties. He'd protect it. It wouldn't be the first time he'd have Cristine on his side and neither would it be the last. He just needed to solidify it before Madison could spit her poison. So, before leaving, Troy would placate Cristine and take control of the narrative. Before it was threatened like she threatened to do destroy James his father-daughter relationship. He heard James answer Madison in a poisonous tune that was in line with his own feelings.

"She clearly doesn't trust you with how often she told me to watch myself around you. Even if she does, she'll still be safe. I'll sleep fine." Drawing in a slow and steady breaths, James alternated his gaze between those cold eyes and sneering lips, to register the grating and threatening words that tumbled from Madison's lips.

"Your daughter cares about _all_ of us." Contrary to her appearance and feelings of motherhood, Madison Clark would ruin anyone who even so much as looked wrong at her children. Let alone this bastard fine with sacrificing her daughter's life cause he was too much of a control freak. "Unlike you, she cares about Alicia and her safety as much as I do. She's went behind your back a couple of times for the safety of us all. What makes you think she won't do it again? What makes _you_ think _you_ can jeopardize my child's safety and I won't jeopardize yours?" The veteran's face furrowed with a budding anger. _Good_. Madison thought and edged James on some more. "What makes you so sure she'd decline going to Black Hat Reservation to rescue Alicia with Nick and me?"

"You-"

"Woah, woah! Easy, James." Troy had seen enough and during their heated argument put himself between the two, back facing Madison. Troy met the man's stare head-on, silently communicating he stop before do anything he'd regret later. The vein near the temple of his head and neck swollen, knuckles white from clenching them hard. His jaw locked from the effort to reel in the animosity in his slightly hunched form. It was potent. James was red with fury, and when Troy set a hand near his torso to edge him back a bit, he was sure the man would swing and snap. "Let's not do something you might regret later, alright?"

James took a deep breath. Troy looked between both welled irises coated with anger that quickly dimmed and was surprised at the familiarity of the act. It wasn't the first time Troy witnessed such quick control and coming to oneself. The amount of self-control something he'd secretly envied. How someone could so easily step away from their emotions even when so hotly provoked garnered ingrained discipline. Troy carefully watched James, jaw taut and muscles rigid. Looking closely at other subtle responses to his words managed to elicit the right response. The slow blinking of his eyes and the way his shoulders relaxed the confirmation he needed. It was brief, insignificant, but Troy managed to detect James his returned tranquility. Troy was impressed by the tenacity of the man. Regulating his emotions the way he did it leaving him stumped. "I appreciate the advice and you looking out for me, but Madison has a point."

"Jake's parley isn't going to hold. Even if we do give the water to them it's going to be temporary. They want the Ranch and us dead preferably. Her daughter doesn't need to be there." Troy said. He thought James was going to argue with him, but the man kept staring, giving him the room to speak his mind. As correct as he was about Madison blackmailing him, Troy still owed her as much as he did James. "She might be here just a week, but she knows what this place is about. What the Survivalist and our community are about." Madison loved to play this chess match with him, yes, but deep down Troy enjoyed it. The mother's actions, her protectiveness of her family was not something to be played with. It was one of the reasons why he picked her and she'd earned her respect in his books. She was going to protect this place for her children's safety and Troy admired that. This was what a mother's love was. Her love, blind devotion, and loyalty would always be linked to things that were safest for her family. He had never seen anyone like that ever and in a way that fascinated and baffled Troy. She would really, honestly, give her life for someone else and Troy didn't quite get that. "This is about _protecting_ one of our own."

James never looked away from Troy and slightly sucked in his cheeks as the words penetrated his mind. "If _you're_ convinced that's why you want to do is, who am I to stop you?" James said, the remark coming out sounding calm and rational despite him not fully believing a damn thing Troy said. It sounded like some half-truth and was much deeper than that. But Troy wasn't his child, so James wouldn't bother stopping the young man if he was so eager to act on his bizarre interests.

"So you won't tell anyone about this?" Madison carefully watched the exchange between the two, slightly surprised by Troy's sudden change of heart. She had to force his hand for him to cave in under the secret kept and deceived everyone. As fleeting as the guilt about what he'd done to the Trimbols and his childhood friend, Troy wasn't backing her because of that. It was childish and almost scarily simple. Troy just didn't like to owe people or be the one controlled in any narrative. He was on her side and he'd paid his due just by standing up to James for her. The second favor would be him helping her rescue Alicia.

Troy lightly moved his head, pausing. He didn't exactly turn to glance at Madison, his eyebrows furrowing then releasing, but he gazed at one of the last Founding Father with focus. His answer to the pointed question would be the end of this argument. James cast a sidelong glance at his cabin's door, in thought and eventually the rest of his facial muscles slackened in resignation. He peered back Troy, alternating his gaze between him and Madison. "The two of you make sure you do this quick."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	45. Chapter 45

Cristine watched the tangerine glow of the sun setting at the horizon. The bright hues of red blended with the orange-gold streaks and stretched far and wide into the wide expanse of the sky. She relaxed outside of her cabin, back pressed into one of the wooden columns. One leg crossed underneath her bottom while the other was propped on the middle of the three-step stairs connected to the rest of her cozy porch. With her own little spot far away from the rest, she could relax from the arduous day and come to herself. Since she just showered, Cristine enjoyed the cooling nature of the otherwise dry breeze and as she wasn't tired yet, cleaning her gun occupied her thoughts. Also, it's been a while since she did a thorough cleanup of her revolver. It wasn't as mentally draining and helped pass time. A light smile perked her lips up, thinking of her father, before that too faltered. He taught her so many things and she was grateful for that. With dexterity and muscle memory, Cristine unclipped the clip of the gun and discarded the bolt. Last time she stripped her gun clean like this, she fantasized about her, her father and Hailey living a simple live in a cabin up in the mountains. A few horses, crops and cattle to live on. It'd be them, away from all this madness, people, the dead, and war. She finished cleaning the bolt and starting from the breech end, ran a cleaning rod down the barrel. Ensuring she got this part ready for routing, Cristine repeated the motion several times.

Sensitive to her surroundings, something in the distance moved at the same time her ears picked up the noise of shoes thudding on the dirt. Cristine automatically looked up and her chin glided over her right shoulder, body alert and muscles tensed. That tension, however, dissolved rather quickly and shifting in her half propped and cross-legged position in a more natural pose. She swallowed the beating in her throat. There was an attempt to relax as much as she could when Troy's silhouette drew close. A puzzled look crossed her face and Cristine wanted to get up, sensing there was something urgent from the seriousness of his expression. Cristine straightened, barrel and cleaning swab resting in both hands. She looked at Troy, head tilting with the lightest motion.

Troy stared at the dismantled gun. His eyes skimmed over the parts on the cloth on her porch. Guns were the finest pieces of art ever made by man. His brows twitched between unnaturally tensing and relaxing before his eyes darted from the gun parts to Cristine. She silently watched him, head cocked as with her brow in response to his own half-frown. Troy's mouth and jaw relaxed and ran the top of his tongue over pearly white teeth. Last time he saw her clean was the first time they were out as a team. "A person that takes good care of their guns is a person with discipline." He said something to her along those lines with different motives and bad dynamics.

"Did something happen?" Cristine found Troy's silence disconcerting and asked the question she often did. Something was always going on, usually bad things, and Troy coming to her was either him garnering her point of view or him venting about things because he couldn't really do that with is family. She didn't miss the peculiar glint of his irises or the way his slow movement reeked of him wanting to speak, but unsure where to actually start.

"Did you mean what you said? About me doing enough?" Troy made sure to watch for the subtlest of changes in Cristine's body language. He saw her head pull back while her shoulders subtly pushed forward signaling her silent thoughts. The up and down motion of her chin triggered his next question, voice scratchy, but his words carefully thought out, "so If I'm going to do something that might save on of our own, but possibly put the Ranch at risk… what would you advice?"

"What?" Alarmed by the explicitness of Troy's question, Cristine discarded the gun parts at her side in an afterthought. She rose, quickly searching for an explanation with pointed eyes. A passive skepticism and confusion slowly surrounded the woman, her damp and slightly weighed down curls move confusingly with her shaking her head. "Why would you even think of doing that?" She judged his question. Troy never took risks that could possibly be detrimental to the Ranch it's safety so of course Cristine showed surprise when he even hypothetically suggested it with this question. It didn't make sense as to who he was as leader of the militia and guardian to Broke Jaw Ranch. It didn't make sense as it being the home he grew up in.

"Madison asked me to organize a rescue mission for Alicia," Troy answered honestly. Cristine was caught-off guard, her brows shot up her forehead. Troy let his announcement sink for a few second before elaborating, "she doesn't think Alicia is safe and doesn't have faith in Jake's parley." Her eyes softened before showing deep contemplation and Cristine chewed on the flesh of her lips.

Cristine added, "most of us don't. I don't blame her, after what they did to the Trimbols." Troy kept a callous front. The events of the previous night but a vague memory to him now. But at least, Cristine understood why he came to her. The woman wasn't gullible and didn't need to have everything spelled out. Troy didn't come here to talk about his concerns of Alicia. He came here for her opinion. Their easiest conversations were usually pragmatic and realistic ones. Connected to survival and safety. They lost and mourned, but they could usually put emotion on the backburner when it came to making calls for the Ranch. Even if they were just a two-man team. Troy's eyes remained plastered on Cristine her downturned face. The woman ran her palm across her neck, rubbing it. After closing her eyes and gathering her thoughts, she finally asked, "Jake said they were armed and you still want to go through with it?"

Troy shrugged, "I've been thinking about giving the parley a couple of days, but Madison has a point, there's not much at stake than the life of one of our own."

"But?" Cristine wanted him to elaborate when she picked up doubt and skepticism in his logical reasoning.

"But while I admire the blind devotion she has for her children, that's still just one person and I need to think of our safety here." As Troy expected Cristine gave him a front row to her reaction when she looked elsewhere with difficulty. Her brows furrowed together and her shoulders dropped. Attentive to it, Troy inwardly grimaced, coming to a frustrating conclusion. Maybe James was right. Maybe his secret was best kept as that. Cristine already walked around with one and didn't trust anyone but him to know, keenly aware of the chaos that would ensue if she told more. Just because she kept quiet, didn't mean Cristine forgot. That secret put cracks in her friendship with Blake. Troy telling her would be too much of a burden for her to carry as much as he wanted to. As much as the thing in the back of his convinced him that he should. That she'd understand if he was honest. Him coming clean would once again prove the trust and respect Troy had for her and they both valued that. Cristine's judgement mattered and Troy held them in high regards ever since maneuvering through their growing friendship and this war. They had done brutal things together. Crossed lines together so why would this be any different? However, seeing her troubled expression when mentioning his hesitation to save Alicia was the end of that. Troy ultimately decided to keep quiet because it would be less complicated.

With that out of the way, it was impertinent Troy dealt with the next possible obstacle accordingly; Madison's threat. Troy needed a guarantee that even if Madison decided to cunningly use her trump card and use Cristine to burn bridges that the woman wouldn't fall for it. Cristine trusted him before Madison. She already guarded herself around the mother, but Troy was going to nip any possible seed of doubt in the bud before it sprouted into a weed that could fracture his connection in any way. Hands on his hips, Troy sighed, "I know she's been an asset to our medical team and you've gotten close." He hit another nerve when Cristine's jittery lip biting started. Her mind probably ran at the speed of light, anxious for a question she rather not hear, but were logical. "This mission will ruin any future chances of negotiations, which I honestly don't mind. But this mission is perilous at best."

"So why are you asking me what to do?" She looked up at him, question accusing him of putting her in a situation she didn't ask for. But he did it anyway and that irritated Cristine. Her dark brown eyes drilled into his, a fire lit them up with the rise of her emotions. "Last time we had a conversation like this you said I shouldn't be naïve to the trolley so what do you want me to say Troy?" Troy didn't take her harsh response to heart and identified how her irises welled up with all the fervor of her caring nature. Cristine her exhale was sharp. "You already know my answer. If that was Hailey I'd already left and to hell with anyone trying to stop me. But that's not what you what you came here for. Is it?" Why was Troy dragging her into these conversations when he knew her stance. To exploit her weakness? Play his weird games. That's what it felt like and Cristine was having none of it.

Troy shook his head, denying her claim and answered truthfully, "if you'd have asked, I'd volunteer for that rescue mission. The guys too. It's how we work. We're a community." He watched her eyebrows scrunch together, unable to make sense of the direction of the conversation. When a brief tug at the end of his lips relaxed his face, she crossed her arms not finding this talk logical. "But you're right, I already know your answer. I also know that you bonded with Alicia and you care about her."

Cristine was still suspicious. "What's it to you?"

"It's not. I just thought you should now that we're heading out tonight to save your friend." Hearing him come clean, with no detectable lie in his words, a complicated twitched blossomed on her face. But Troy was positive that with this he'd tip her appreciation for him in favor, whether unconscious or not. He wouldn't push it, since Cristine was smart and she'd detect if something in his comment was off. "Just make sure no one else gets wind of this. It's still a covert mission and Jake and my dad are gonna be pissed when we return." Silence passed again while Troy's relaxed gaze flickered back and forth between her raised eyes. "I just wanted to let you know."

"You could've told me all of that without being a shrewd asshole about it." Cristine slapped him on the shoulder, irritated but strangely relieved at the same time. Troy was treating this like a game when they were going out on a risky mission that had a fifty-fifty chance of succeeding. But the tension in her body ebbed from her muscles. If this was Troy's idea of a friendship Cristine had to be on guard and extremely patient. Why was everything a game to him? It drove her mad. Her face twisted unpleasantly when he smiled his odd smile, teeth bared and almost boyishly innocent.

"I could have." Troy didn't elaborate on that. He found it a lot more fun to rile the woman up. He relished in the annoyed roll of her eyes and a genuine smile ghosted on his lips. It might have intimidated anyone else, but him. His laid-back response ignited an even deeper scowl that Troy hadn't seen in ages. His eyes sparked with entertained fascination and he willingly collected that second, softer, slap on the arm.

Refusing to entertain this maniac any further, feeling that the conversation would go nowhere, Cristine found it in herself to relax a bit. "So what did convince you to do this?" Despite what Troy said about showcasing his trust and willingness to let her in on things, Cristine didn't get the feeling this was him being generous. Troy took his responsibilities and leadership role very serious and Cristine appreciated him telling her all of this when he didn't have to. Asking her advice, involving her, and even entrusting her with some responsibilities. Those weren't things Troy usually did let alone go behind his family's back to go against the grain. Troy took a risk based on emotion and that was not him. "You're definitely not doing this for the Clarks. Not even for your family..." Troy looked away, hands in his pockets and peered into the distance. As appreciative as she was with his honesty, Cristine knew Troy longer than today. It was scary how easily she saw through his base motivations. Cristine rubbed the end of her elbow with her thumb and tried to translate his detached appearance. Troy delighted in battles and relished the lack of moral directions and empathy. Troy was unpredictable, but even in that fickle nature Cristine was able to uncover his need for retaliation. Her question was careful yet genuinely curious, "are you doing this because you want to fight?"

Troy kept his gaze averted, looking at the slowly darkening sky in the distance as if the answer to her question resided there. A breathless sound that sounded like a scoff, as if remembering a funny thought escaped his nose and mouth. Eventually Troy faced her and clarified, "smugglers, cartels, people crossing the border, and an Indian tribe whose been on my family's neck since I was a kid. This isn't new for me Cristine. This place has always been violent. Death always around the corner. The country's government never gave a shit about our problems so we solved them ourselves and looked out for our own. We always had to fight to keep what's ours safe. Even before the apocalypse. So yeah," Troy strongly gestured with his head and answered, "part of me is doing this so we can break this empty parlay and proceed with our regular events. Make them pay for what they did and protect all of us." After saying his piece, Troy narrowed his eyes to try and pick out the disdain the woman showed for his brutally honest and selfish motivations. "That alright with you?"

Cristine processed Troy's explanation first. It was without conscious or consideration for the consequences. Troy upheld values he always stood by and yes, a large part of those ideas fed his dark side that was ruthless and without mercy. It glided through his eyes like a living entity. The thing inside of him that feasted on blood-red chaos part of his DNA, as deeply-rooted as the life that shaped him. It would've chilled Cristine her blood had she been naïve of the workings of the world and the people living in it. She wasn't naïve. She might not be like Troy who was made for this, but she adapted. The apocalypse strengthened her will and trained her apathy that served as nothing but a tool for the good of herself, her family, and community. If it didn't protect or improve those things precious to her in anyway, everything that fell outside that spectrum was nothing and didn't matter. So she understood his motives from that angle. Cristine finally lowered her arms and tilted her body a bit, hyper aware of the fact that he was waiting for her response. "I'm not your judge Troy. Go through with this because you're craving for your big fight or because you want to protect all of us, just make sure you bring our people back home safely."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Troy's back (he never stopped lol) to his manipulative ways to keep his bond with Cristine intact. 
> 
> Also, Cristine is showing her lack of care for Troy's base and problematic ways so they can fight. How do you guys feel about that? 
> 
> Love to read what you guys think. Cause after this chapter prepare for the start of clashing ideals, motives and just good old fashion drama, angst and callouts 🤭


	46. - Cristine & Jake -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so happy to read all of your comments guys! It makes me cry and I reread them to give me motivation so keep sharing your thoughts, criticisms, or just how this makes you feel. I love it!

Cristine couldn't sleep after Troy's visit and night had fallen so she lit up the battery powered lamps in the infirmary and to keep her mind instead of body busy, she decided to finish the first volume of her medical journal. The non-standard first-aid book was meant for even the untrained individual to use when she wasn't present or dead. The handbook wasn't particularly thick, but everything written inside was done with care and precision. No complicated phrasing or words if it wasn't necessary. The structure of each page concise and to the point. She addressed the ailments, its symptoms, to-do and not to do, which medicines or herbs to use and the aftercare. Writing this granted her the same calmness and purpose as when she cleaned the infirmary. Time went by and before Cristine knew it she was at the end of the book and a sense of accomplishment. Feeling vindicated after she squeezed the final word at the end of the last page, a smile stretched Cristine's lips, the sheen color on her face bright and the dimpled cheeks prominent. The young medic truly resembled a delighted child that had finished her personal project. Distracted by her pride, Cristine hardly noticed Jake standing at the entrance until he made his presence known.

"I see you finished it." Cristine was slightly started by his appearance this late and followed his line of sight at the journal with impressive eyes. Brushing her fingers against the last page, the soft smile returned and Jake asked, "how long did it take you to finish it?"

"Twenty-seven days. It's not nearly as extensive as the medical books I've read during my residency days and won't make up what we've lost during the fire." Cristine shut the notebook when Jake invited himself inside, hands rubbing at either side of his soft pants. The last time she saw her friend was when they fought against the dead, Jake volunteered to draw the dead away and never returned, only for him to have catch them all off-guard by heading to the Nation to negotiate peace.

"I heard about Kathy's delivery and our new addition of the community."

"Yeah. She's a genuine spitfire, but healthy overall. Have you seen her?" Cristine her face lit up talking about their barely week old member.

"Not yet, I didn't have time to do my rounds yet since I've returned." Jake shook his head.

There was a prolonged silence from either side. Cristine lowered her eyes and scratched a nail on top of the hard cover of her medical journal. Moving her slack jaw from side to side, she put her focus on everything but Jake. Because if she did, she would be reminded that he'd just run off like some idiot and showed the Nation all their cards. They were right back where they started because Jake let the bleeding hearts get to him and she didn't understand. Swallowing her frustration, Cristine decided not to speak up or even ask what kind of idiot he was until he'd bring it up.

On the opposite side, Jake stared at the younger woman's downcast face. _"Silent treatment, huh?"_ Sighing, Jake reached for one of the chairs before settling it opposite of the narrow table occupying her utensils and finished notebook. The frigidity of Cristine's mood characterized by vexation dampened Jake's spirit considerably. The last few days were hectic on both sides and negotiation with Walker hadn't been easy at all. It was straining at most and the hostility was crushing being there as the only one. He was doing his family, friends, and the community even if many people were looking at him like he'd betray them and with Cristine giving him that exact same look, it diminished his spirits. Jake wrung his hands together and thought of something he hadn't told her before.

"You know before I finished law school I had to come home because my dad asked me to… he got in to some land disputes and needed my advice. That's when we saw the news and talk of people getting sick and weird attacks around the country. It went pretty fast after that and before we knew it was a new world. That's where I was when the start of the apocalypse. At first, I thought it was luck when we saw what happened to society, and maybe it still was… but somewhere, I als think it was fate. I've been thinking about a lot of things; how humanity will survive and how society would continue. How civilization would advance and move forward?" Jake shared his questions with Cristine. Questions she too must had at a certain point in time. Especially the last one. There were so many possibilities and scenarios that would play out but the recurring ones kept echoing through his skull: was the new world going to move them forward as people or would they be so perverted by the conflict around them and rely on their baser human instincts?

"I was able to leave that tightly-knit bubble of my family. I met new people. People _different_ from me and that it's alright for them to be that way. Most people on the Ranch still find that hard to understand, but it allowed a different perspective on how to approach things and not everyone likes that." Cristine attentively listened to Jake and somewhere along the way she finally looked up from her closed journal at Jake.

"Is that why you did what you did?" Jake scratched the corner of his temple, staring at Cristine as he took in her changing expression with a critical eye. A wince grew on his lips, but he kept his cool better than most. It wasn't frustration with Cristine or the situation but with his father and himself. For not seeing that their home was in need of help, for a long time now. His peace talk with Walker made Jake think about things past fighting and killing. Of course, the Nation was a threat to their safety. Jake wasn't naïve, just trying to make sure they didn't lose their humanity during this al. It couldn't just be survival; kill or be killed. There had to be more after this all, more to their lives and the future.

"I'll always look for ways around problems and where the least amount of death is involved. I know what we have to do and what this entails and I agree that it should be done to protect the people here."

Pushing down the remnants of her question back, Cristine said, "I've seen what our people want Jake even if they claim to not take well to leaders. My father and Troy lead them. Troy and the militia fought for us. Troy knows how to lead Jake… he knew what he was doing." Other than his humane questions and doubt, Jake hadn't given her clarity to go against Troy's plan. He hadn't once mentioned Troy and in a roundabout way was condemned the carefully-crafted and thought out plan to bring the battle to them.

"I thought about what you said to me when we took you in. You were trying to find your place in our community and... surviving." Jake narrated over Cristine's soft sigh of exasperation, "I don't know if you still remember when you said we should try to take in people who might have something we may need at one point," Jake explained. His pulsing blue eyes were suddenly so piercing.

"You want to take them in?!"

Jake raised his hands in defense, signaling to lower her volume and explained, "no, no! All I know is that war shouldn't be our only option. The Nation isn't that different from us. They want to start a new path and build their civilization too. They fight against the dead and live to build a future they're proud of." Cristine was quiet, but Jake could see the gears turning in her head. At least she was contemplating his perspective. They were going to rip a group apart with people who couldn't fight or defend themselves. It reminded Jake of the people on the Ranch. The militia protected them, but if that protection was gone, these people would be lost and defenseless. This us or them mentality… Jake wanted to search for the middle ground first.

"I'm a spiteful person Jake," Cristine shook her head, statement nothing but honesty and she didn't even shy away from saying that. "And when I'm spiteful I first think about what hurt me." A shaky exhale that made her voice waver from the spiked emotions and her eyes redden. "They killed our friends Jake. Charlie, the Trimbols-"

"Walker denies having anything to do with that."

"Bullshit!" Cristine spat back. Her insides began to burn flabbergasted why Jake would even think of defending this man that literally scalped their victims.

Jake was still calm, but his voice was sure when explaining, "I know Walker. He was happy to hear Vernon was dead, but I could tell from his reaction it wasn't him who killed the Trimbols. He was surprised when we accused him. Walker wants the Founding Father, our fathers, dead more than anything. Preferably by his hands… so why deny this? Why would Walker care whether any of us here lives or dies when he's killed us without mercy? I know you're angry and upset, but try not to let that cloud your judgement Cristine."

"So what you're saying someone else did this?" Cristine asked.

"I'm only saying it wasn't Walker and I at least believe that. Just like I believe that he's desperate to make this parley work for his people and that we should meet him halfway."

"Why are you doing this Jake? I'm not going to agree with you. Not after everything they've done to us. We're here like sitting ducks because you want to play pacifist." This wasn't the dilemma Jake made it out to be for her. A few weeks ago? Maybe, Cristine would be at the same wavelength as Jake. But then she remembered Ben and his rapist friends who almost broke her. Cristine remembered the weeks she had to recuperate. The times she felt small, filthy, and humiliated. She wasn't that person anymore. At the end of the day, one side would lose their blanket of security and Cristine would be damned if that was them.

"What if you were there with the Nation and not us?" Jake regret asking her the question when he saw her nostrils flare.

"I'm not. I'm here with my family and my people. I'm here with _you_. Don't make me feel guilty because it won't work." Cristine made a face, appalled Jake would even go there and make her feel guilty about something that was out of her control.

"I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying if we win this, we'll be leaving innocent people without protection. People like Kathy. People with families; children same as us" Jake saw the glower in her eyes only tighten and dropped his head, eyes on the ground with equal exasperation.

Cristine crossed her arms, "it's not on me or you to feel bad about that... Walker declared war and if his people are going to die because of it. That's on him." Jake laughed ironically at her justification. He never thought he would hear those words coming out of Cristine's mouth. They conversed not that long ago and Cristine was all up in arms about it. He expected this talk from Troy and his father, but not from the person who endured so much and more.

"We'll get our justice Cristine, I know we will. But secluding ourselves like this won't help us build a future. There's more out there. People who can make us stronger. Like we did with you? Now you're our medic."

Having her words thrown back at her without any remorse made Cristine look at Jake strangely. It felt like an accusation and a tactic to manipulate her. Like Troy so often did and Cristine really saw the similarities in the half siblings in this moment. Each with their own polarizing agendas in all of this. "Don't do that." Cristine tiredly shook her head, but didn't feel angry with Jake. "Don't make me feel bad and twist my words. I'm not turning the other cheek at those who won't hesitate to kill us with no remorse."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that this conversation was overdue given the first chapter of this book where Cristine and Jake stood and where they are now. I've been reading and listening to interviews by Sam Underwood about Jake and that has given me a lot of material to work with that I can use aside from his role/dialogue in the show. So I try to incorporate that in my story and interactions as much as I can with the relationships Jake (but also other canon characters) has with his family (especially Troy), community, and friends. '
> 
> Also, hope you guys notice the clues I've been putting here and there that will focus on Cristine for a bit.


	47. - Cristine & Dolores -

Cristine walked near the fences, the chill of the night sucked away her body heat. She rubbed her palms up and down her arms and shoulders, eyes focused on the perimeter of the empty road. It's been some hours since Troy and the others left and it was barely an hour ago she and Jake had that argument. He hadn't convinced her to back his parley, as much as he begged her. But in spite of her own bias against the deeds of Walker and his Nation, there was one thing that echoed through Cristine's skull like a thick liquid trickled through the cracks. _"Walker wants the Founding Father, our fathers, dead more than anything. Preferably by his hands… so why deny this? Why would Walker care whether any of us here lives or dies when he's killed us without mercy?"_ Cristine told herself before that she wouldn't rationalize the actions of a madman, but Jake's comment managed to plant a seed of doubt within her. He was right. And it still didn't make any sense. The Trimbols were scalped and burned, just like McCarthy. Moving to keep herself active and distracted, Cristine didn't know how long she was walking the endless length of fences and heard the distant noise of someone shouting. "-tine!" Furrowing her brows, Cristine stopped dead in her tracks as well and the chilly wind that was a harsh nip could be felt through her clothing. The rapid scrape of boots, heavy rustling that were distinct to the heavy tactical vest, and unmistakable yell of her name, "Cristine!" She turned to the source of the noise and shuffled back a step in reflex when Joe drew close. Trying to pinpoint the man's frenetic dash in her direction, Cristine roamed her eyes up at him, seeing no signs of injury or discomfort on his body. Joe rubbed the side of his chest, panting from the run and caught his breath and pointed in the general direction where the tents were located. "There's- there's someone you need to look at in the infirmary."

Cristine stood plastered in the same spot as when she walked through the entrance the moment she laid eyes on the person in the bed. Her legs felt heavy and her chest constricted. Like the naïve little girl of the past who had no clue what to do. Looking at it made her feel tiny and almost nonexistent looking at the state of her stepmother she'd seen her father in so often and protected Hailey from witnessing. It was like a timer set on a bomb about to go off. Issues that were always present, but never acknowledged or discussed, but only complicated. The presence and memories of her birth mother slowly being replaced in her home from her puerile mind at just six years old. Her breath echoed loudly in her ears and she clenched her eyes rather angrily at this _burden. _This _disease _that was put on her shoulders again. And again. And again.

"I was doing my regular shift and found her near the gates passed out," Joe explained, breaking Cristine from her gloomy memories and pushed her confused and anxious thoughts to the backburner. Sprawled unceremoniously in the bed was Dolores. Her blonde locks were a mess and her cheeks were flushed red. She was mumbling incoherent nonsense in her drunk slumber. Hearing the man's explanation, Cristine couldn't spare room to care much for her stepmother's situation. Dolores just laid there like some victim, waiting to be soothed by someone. That someone was her. The fact that Dolores, out of everyone, drunk herself into oblivion was a twisted kind of fate. "Thought it was best to bring her here. Is that good?" Cristine turned her head, eyes raised at the curly-haired ginger-blonde and silently lowered her chin.

"That's good. Sorry about this Joe." Cristine was relieved he didn't ask any questions. It was embarrassing enough he found her outside passed out.

"No problem." After Joe left, Cristine's shoulders dropped and she ran her palms and fingers repeatedly over her face before stopping the tick that reeked of frustration. Walking up to the bed, Cristine her nose twitched and picked up the harsh, spiced stench of alcohol. It wasn’t the first time Cristine took on the role of cleaning after and tending to a drunk adult. She just hoped those days would be the last and wouldn't ever have to do that again after moving out. Her face was resolutely unimpressed though and like a gyro pilot went through the routine of tucking the elder woman in.

"It's not- it's not his fault…" Somewhere during the nursing, after pulling the blanket up, Dolores began to ramble in her intoxicated, half-awake stupor. The beady, glazed over blue irises peered through half-lidded eyes. Cristine didn't pay her floaty stare or her unintelligent words much mind. Dolores was drunk and drunk people babbled. "He's trying to make it right… please don't- don't blame him. Even if he keeps doing it. It's not his fault." Cristine ignored Dolores until her stepmother's arm reached out swiftly to grab her wrist. She peering at Cristine with wide eyes. "I know- I know he still loves her- after all these years, he still loves her more than me." Her voice was hoarse, scratchy and the slurred words illogical.

"You're not making sense Dolores. Go to sleep." Cristine winced when Dolores her nails dug into her flesh and she held the woman's hand and tried to pry the iron grip from her. That was easier said than done and the death grip only began to hurt Cristine more and more. "Hey, let go."

Dolores kept on speaking not making any sense and her eyes began to water during the rant. "It's the nightmares- the nightmares that keep haunting him. That haunt us all… they never stopped. They're never ending. They're worse than the dead and the ghosts… but I can see them haunting your father… crying and carrying his sins.. Your sins. And I can't- I can't help him… not even you can help him. Only she can help him from limbo- ugh!" Cristine gave Dolores a good old-fashion thwack on her arm before she was able to wring her hand from the tight hold that not only cut off her blood circuit but left behind an indentation of crescent shaped marks on her skin. She rubbed the sensitive area that turned red and glared at the wide-eyed, slack mouthed Dolores. Her face was pale as if she'd seen the same ghost she was talking about, but no words left her mouth again.

Cristine scowled, unaware that her eyes were watering. Her ears pounded and she suddenly remembered the drunken outrages as a child and teen. The glazed eyes looking back at her made her feel small and Cristine felt something warm and wet drizzle down her cheeks, realizing she was crying. She quickly rubbed at her face with the sleeve of her shirt. Confused by herself, the reflexive defense, and fear instilled between the crevices of her mind. Cristine her words and reaction to her stepmother were divergent and disoriented her greatly. The weak and frail-looking Dolores grabbing her so violently pulled Cristine in opposite directions of what she thought and said. The words were stuck in the back of her throat, like a fish finding it's oxygen and Cristine sneered, "if you can't act right, I'll call Hailey and daddy so they can deal with you. I'm not doing this with you Dolores."

"But the sins- they 're too much to bear. He killed-"

"Shut up!" Cristine roared.

-

Cristine went outside. She left Dolores and just walked around the acreage of the Ranch. Dolores her words, while disjointed, kept rocking through her skull. The way Dolores kept referring to _her_, to ghosts and limbo… she brought up her birth mother. They sentences, meanings she tried to puzzle together moved in foreign ways. Ways that were supposed to mean nothing, but were an echo. An echo that managed to crack Cristine her composure and the walls she cemented in her psyche. Cristine build them ever since she was a child aware that she needed to or else she'd get hurt. She thought that years after, her walls could withstand this. Thought they were high, robust, and stable enough to endure. But a minute in front of that hateful woman and they were obsolete. That angered Cristine in more ways than one. Sniffing, she noticed Joe in the distance on his patrol. He was by himself and giving it no afterthought went to join the man. He didn't say much, didn't ask question or pried and Cristine was grateful for that.

They constantly checked the perimeter for something out of place including the return of Troy and the others. It's been some hours now since the small group left. Cristine had a riffle with her and used the night scope to scan the perimeter. Only the grainy silhouettes of the dry bushes and rocks greeted her. Unclenching her jaw, Cristine sighed and lowered the weapon.

"They'll be back," Joe commented, shifting on his feet when she gave him a callous look and shrugged.

"I'm not worried about that." Cristine stared into his eyes, and her mind geared when she remembered something menial. Everything to distract her from what happened in the infirmary. "Hey Joe, you and Cooper were on duty the night before we left the gorge right? The night before the Trimbols got attacked." Cristine swung her rifle around her body and began to step with him in line to continue his routinely path.

"Yeah. Why?"

"Aside from my dad and Troy going out that night to hunt. Did anyone else who wasn't supposed to go out that night?"

"I didn't see him and Troy together that night."

Cristine rolled her eyes and smirked, finding Joe's loyalty to Troy and her father admirable. "Don't worry, my dad already told me he saw Troy brooding and they went out." Joe paused in his steps, eyebrow arched and made a funny face.

Joe corrected her with a shake of the head, "Nah, I'm pretty sure I didn't see them together. I did see your dad and Nick's mom go out with one of the trucks. Maybe you mistook her for Troy."

"You… you sure about that?" Cristine her mind blanketed, with light skepticism and wondered if Joe might not remember everything exactly. Why would her father and Madison even go out together? When she herself warned him about the woman? He said he'd keep his distance, probably aware of Madison's hidden agenda. Her eyebrows furled inward and Cristine crossed her arms over her chest.

Joe nodded. "A hundred. We only saw those two leave and your dad assured us they were just going out for a quick stroll. Wasn't even aware Troy snuck out to be honest. But I get if he wanted some fresh air given how he and Mike ended things… then the next day. Probably hit him the worst out of everyone cause they were best friends. I can see why he and the guys snuck out for that rescue missions to save the girl."

"Yeah. Yeah." At this point Cristine wasn't listening to a word Joe said, her mind frazzled with the new information and the fact that her father lied to her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are ya'll enjoying this?


	48. - Cristine & James -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say guys. Just get right into it guys!

Cristine stared through the night vision binoculars. Through the green colored view she saw the patrols behind the fences walk their routinely shifts. Cristine went to the old tower just outside the Ranch used as a sentry post. Away from the people to seclude herself for a bit and organize her thoughts. After a while Cristine walked balk towards the small crackling campfire. The heat source not as warm as earlier so she added some more wood and began to poke at it with a stick. The orangey yellow flame greedily licked at it's fuel and sparks of embers drifted upwards. Cristine's eyes quietly watched the spots dissolve before rubbing her arms gently with her palms until they become sensitive and suddenly lowered her head between her shoulders. Her back was bend over and she hugged herself within the comfort of the small heat in the middle of this uncanny chill. The anxiousness that gripped her heart, squeezed in a manner that constantly ached.

What was she supposed to make out of all this?

Sniffing, the moment she felt a droplet trickle down the corners of her eyes and brought a fisted sleeve to scrub it away until it left her face feeling raw. Cristine didn't want to make sense of her conversation with Jake or believe Joe's story. She wanted to ignore the worsening ticks of her father under pressure that were subtle at the start and became worse as time moved on. Cristine wanted to make sense of Troy's lethargy by remembering the moments the two of them didn't argue and worked so well. She wanted to disregard the feeling of her gut and rationale ignoring the signs that something was very wrong for a long time. Cristine wanted to overlook that the murder of the Trimbols had been distorted to fit a narrative. It was like a vice grip on her longs now and Cristine struggled to breath and she tried to regulate by clenching her fists together until it hurt. Until the pain was so intense she gasped and clarity returned.

The low engine hum slithered through her ears. Cristine didn't have the physical strength to look up or mentally care that she exuded this exhausted, grief-struck ambience. Under different circumstances, she would've separated her emotions to cushion herself from possible threats or people taking advantage of her… again. It was exhausting, but just when she thought she found her safe haven to trust it got crushed. Her emotions still raged from outburst in the infirmary with Dolores and now her thoughts spun over the worst possible scenario that involved her father. Cristine felt sick

"Cristine!" Her father's hasty voice rang so loudly in her ears, Cristine slipped her palms to cover them and block it out. The tension in her face and limbs grew again and her thoughts accelerated inside her head. Everything was too loud around her and the vice grip in her lungs tightened, breathing coming in quick intervals. It all threatened to spill from her brains, unable to think, make sense and do the basic bodily actions. She felt a pair of strong arms engulf her body, the familiar scent seeped into her being. "Shh… shh… it's alright Birdie, just breathe." Usually, her father's warmth and soft words would comfort her and she'd relaxed into his hold. Each time before parting, it would reset all her bad feelings.

But not this time.

Cristine eventually managed to catch her breath and slid her hands from her ears. Her father rocked them back and forth and Cristine listened to her father, listless gaze staring at the dirt, "everything will be alright." James his grip was soft and his words sounded so ironic in her ears.

_"It won't."_ Cristine was unable to piece together how her father could look at himself, look at _her,_ at Hailey, his _family_, and not feel sick with himself. Sick with actions. She often thought about the things she'd done and there would always be a soft voice inside her head that she tried to ignore. Sometimes it was good but most of the time bad and it scared her. Frightened her that every time she needed to cross a line she didn't want to again.

After freeing her hands, Cristine wrung herself from her father's embrace and pushed against his chest in the midst of comforting words that just sounded hollow to her. Cristine didn't immediately look at him, but she caught her breath first, eyes welling up. She gathered all the mental strength she could muster and finally looked at those concerned blue eyes.

"Tell me… what happened to the Trimbols." Despite the quiver in her demand, her voice didn't miss a beat and was crisp.

"…" James looked back with silent confusion, expression faltering. His daughter's defeated posture, her, upturned brows, and glistening eyes left him speechless. He shifted on his feet, jaw slack and mouth slightly open. He pressed his lips together, quietly deciding to not speak.

Noting her father's deliberate silence, Cristine said, "if you lie to me one more time, I'll ask Troy or Madison instead. Then, after all this is over, I'm going back to the outpost." Cristine shook her head with slight disbelief. It hurt even more that she had to threaten and beg to pull out the truth. "Just say it."

The air was brittle and the silence teetering.

"Tell me the truth daddy. No matter what it is, I won't- I won't tell anyone." Cristine didn't want to make such a promise, but if that was the only way her father would _look_ at her and _see_ her then she would make this allowance. The messed up thing was she still wanted to _protect_ him. Their love would remain broken, but if he couldn't even be honest, no matter how cruel, what else did she have? Cristine didn't want to go back to the pretend. She didn't want to go back to the emotional indifference just when her father finally stopped drinking. 

Inhaling deeply, James pulled his mouth up before looking away from his daughter. In his life, James had done a lot of awful things. And all those times something within him chipped away until he couldn't find it in himself to care and justified it. He did it, because that was his truth and one else's. He murdered pre-apocalypse and that wasn't talking about his life as a soldier in the army. The war was different and it had left James empty when he returned. James willingly murdered in the name of brotherhood. The guilt didn't sit on his chest or brains as it did with Jeremiah. James tried, but he didn't feel remorse knowing what he had done. Knowing what he kept a secret now. He had at first, but feeling remorse or guilt didn't feel right. Perhaps that was the reason why he pitied and protected Troy. Aside from the boy's volatile nature, he saw fragments of himself within him. It was why he wanted to keep Cristine as far away from any of this as he could. But his daughter was smart. He had hoped this was another secret that could remain as one. James stiffened himself militarily and breathed out deeply the moment he looked back at Cristine.

"Madison saw Troy sneak out that night and came to me," James began softly. The dark shadows of the fire danced across his serious face, but the warm glow of the embers didn't soften his face or his narration of that night. His words ominous and calm, "so we followed him… and when we caught up it was already too late. The RV was filled with bullets. Mike was outside; dead. Vernon, Kathy, and Gretchen had turned."

Cristine's thoughts ran a thousand miles per hour when processing the words. Her throat went dry quickly, but she held in her breath and asked in a anxious whisper, exhale sharp, "and Troy?"

"He killed them," James continued and this time he lowered his gaze, ashamed. Not over the fact that he was part of the cover-up. But ashamed that he needed to come clean to his daughter about this. "He said it wasn't what he intended to do following them. Said, it wasn’t what you and him discussed and he didn't lie."

"…so," Cristine's eyebrows scrunched together with a shake of the head, the confession rang through her ears like a blearing alarm. "…you made it look like Walker did it?"

"Yes." James nodded, but didn't go in detail what he had to- _needed_ to do that night to make it all seem believable to the community. "I know it's hard to under-"

"No! Don't you dare!" Cristine roar made her voice pitched. She breathed noisily and pointed a finger in accusation at her father for even finishing that sentence. Her mouth was pulled back and her teeth were bared. Her wet eyes glowed hotly, but were also hard and unforgiving. "Don't you dare say it's hard to understand when you- you just- you not only deliberately lied to me _again_ but you covered for Troy… after- after he killed them. Why? Tell me why?"

"You know why." James allowed that ball of negative emotions to strike him. He deserved the rage and betrayal.

"I want you to say it." Blue-eyes widened, body tensing and breath stuck in his throat. Cristine didn't give her father any leeway to run from his conscious and deliberate decisions. She watched him swallow and waited for him to say the truth that justified covering this horrendous thing up. "_Say it_."

James rolled his lips inward and briefly looked at the dirt for a few seconds, unable to keep eye contact with Cristine. "I did it to keep us saf-"

"NO!" Cristine slammed her hands into her father's chest and the later slightly stepped back from the force she put behind that push. He didn't react to the frantic push and kept quiet. Unsatisfied, Cristine pushed him a few more times as rough as she could. "We're not your excuse either! You own it like you owned setting up this lie and cover up! Say it!" James almost stumbled back from the final slam in his body and reached out to grab Cristine by the arms and stopped her. His eyes reddened and he glowered at his daughter who was now panting and crying.

"You want to know the truth? The truth is that these people are weak when it comes to it. They claim they don't want a leader, but complain when nothing is done. Jeremiah hasn't done shit, but put all of us in jeopardy, so I saw a chance and I took it! Yes, Vernon and his family died, but my family is safe and that's all- that's _everything_ that matters." James his eyes frosted over and the strength he put behind keeping Cristine at bay was tight. He ignored how she refused to cry out in pain. "You _begged_ me that I stop treating you like a child. You wanted us to get to know each other. _Really_ get know each other." James threw back Cristine's words in her face and it made her nostrils flare. "Now you do. This is who I am! Drunk or sober alike, this is who I'll always be! Do you want me to tell you that I'll change?"

Cristine ignored the vice grip her father kept on her limbs and shook her head, "I wanted you to be honest with me. I want you to tell me justifies crossing _this_ line."

"This line?" James narrowed his eyes before scoffing, hearing nothing but hypocrisy coming from her. "How many people have you killed Cristine? How many times have you _lied_ to us- to me to get things done? Do I have to remind you with the same individual you claim is your _friend_. There are no lines. This is how we live now and we're _alive._ That's justification enough." James finished, "don't pretend all of this is new to you or that we're _different_ because you want to feel in control by picking and choosing what's right and wrong. A kill is a kill Cristine. There's no morality in any of what we do and will be doing to survive. This needs to happen before we can all live like decent people again and not wild animals."

Cristine ignored the tears running down her face and she ground her teeth. Heat flushed through her body and her muscles quivered. "I don't hate who I've become if that's what you're implying. None of us asked for this sick world and the sick things we need to do… I just- I just thought having a community where the people we care about can live decently. That we'll only fear the people and things that want to hurt us. Not having to worry about getting sacrificed by your own. By people _you think_ you trust." Maybe Jake was right, in a sense that a war would have sacrifices, but not at the cost of consciously sacrificing your own people to win.

James was left speechless, as if it dawned to him, but his eyes cooled down again. "We need people like Troy, like me, and like Madison to stop Walker. I don't like it, but someone needs to make the hard the calls."

"Do you even feel guilt about the Trimbols?" Cristine asked, growing weary of the conversation.

"If I do, it'll all be for nothing," James chewed on his lips. "It's no use throwing someone as skilled as Troy to the wolves when we're fighting. Not even _after_ we've won this. We both know what he's struggling with and if it's time to put him down when it gets worse, I'll do it. I promise." James pulled Cristine back into a tight hug and rubbed the back of her head, "hate me and cuss me all you want Birdie, but you're safe. Hailey and Dolores are safe. People are willing to fight and die to keep what we've build standing."

Cristine gasped in her father's shoulder, her face creased and body so taut she couldn't breathe and felt trapped in her own skin. Her heart seared painfully and grasped the sides of his jacket, shoulders shaking and the sound of her struggling to breathe and cry. Her gasps were labored from the windedness during her outburst. Cristine opened mouth opened, her statement surprising her and shocking her father when she said it out loud, "no wonder you married Dolores so quickly after mom died. You're selfish."

As if he touched hot coal, that's how quickly James pushed Cristine off of him. His eyes widened, the shock lasting for a few seconds and James slapped Cristine. Hard. The force of the hand print instantly reddened her cheek and the sound echoed through the night. The blow rendered Cristine dazed while staring right through her father. As if his presence and actions were as meaningless as the wind. The faint furrowed of her brow indicated some sort of thought blooming, but her face relaxed into that familiar, slack expression. Her breathing slowed and after a while Cristine silently passed her frozen father. James twisted around, his jaw slack as if he wanted to call her back, apologize, but the words couldn't leave his mouth. From his peripheral, James saw the lights of two vehicles before the humming of the engines crept through his ears. He watched them race through the gates and drive all the way up to the Big House.

The others returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing this chapter was intense! So much was going on, but I hope I've cleared the dynamics between Cristine and James. 
> 
> James has always been a neglectful (and abusive) father despite how I've introduced him in my first book as the kind, approachable man who always smiles. He 'made up' his (and Dolores's) abuse and neglect, especially towards Cristine with trips, gifts, but didn't really protect her from any of it (why I also added Dolores even if she has a really tiny role in my story, but has shaped who Cristine is now). Cristine is the product of her abusive environment. She still yearns for her father's (broken) love and attention. Even if she exhibits more than a few of James his cold-hearted traits, albeit not as extreme as him. Whereas James is willing to do whatever (similar to Madison), Cristine still has that line of protecting what she cherishes. It's in Cristine her nature and she'll always seek that appreciation/acceptance from others (unconsciously) when she doesn't always get that from her father, but from others. James has a more Darwinistic and 'sacrificing the few for the good of the many' approach (which I think kind of has psychopathic roots, but I'm not an expert). His justifications sound like excuses to Cristine, but James really believes in what he did, has done, and will probably keep doing. He simply finds it hypocritical of Cristine that she would define these set of rules and judge him, Troy and Madison for doing what they did when she's killed too. For James these rules are obsolete when literal lives are at stake and he'll gladly will touch the extremes. Like I mentioned before, there is mostly only grey in my story because it is an apocalypse. It's why I enjoy writing these contradicting views, motivations and beliefs everyone holds. And FTWD has done an awesome job in my opinion showcasing that. Their relationship is complex and I hope you guys were able to read between the lines even though this was an emotional confrontation and callout. 
> 
> Also, I finished this chapter early, because I won't be able to update the rest of this week/weekend because I'll be on a short break! 
> 
> Love to read your thoughts and opinions about this chapter.


	49. - Cristine -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter, but enjoy nevertheless

**Blergh**!

Clutching the sides of the toilet bowl tightly, Cristine spewed out the transparent bile mostly digested in her stomach. She felt her gut contract painfully and forced out what was left in her body. Blindly searching to flush down the congealed contents, Cristine watched the water drain, face drained from blood and looking exhausted. Cristine wiped at her mouth, but instantly winced from the throbbing pain in her face, even opening her mouth hurt. The first slap, at least a decade ago, was the worst. It was unexpected and her tiny body couldn't handle the weight and strength of the stun. To her tender figure, it was like being punched by a slab of concrete and after she had to listen to the words of hatred of her stepmother, all while remembering the haze of her father who promised it would get better. Sunken through her knees, half slanted over the toilet, Cristine breathed out before forcing her body up to scuttle to the mirror. She peered at the weary imitation staring back with those listless pitch back eyes. They were glazed over into a lightless and unfocused glare. Her mind momentarily lapsed deeply within the crevices of her psyche where she was safe from all the pain. There was no one there to hurt her, manipulate, or ridicule her. But doing that for too long would only make the aftermath worse and Cristine pinched her bruising mouth and the pain shocked her back to reality. The edges of her eyes curved downwards and after a blink, her jet black pupil dilated against the rich dark brown of her iris. At least, on skin as brown as hers the bruising was a bit harder to spot, but with every muscle movement the pain seared through her face.

Cristine slid down the bathroom floor, back pressed against the door, legs pulled in with her elbows resting on her knees. The wood dug into the bones of her shoulders. The scarce splinters pricked through the fabric of her clothes onto her skin. Cristine shakily kept her breath even, the sound so loud inside her completely silent room. Her vision blurred from the shed tears that trickled down her warm cheeks. The cool steel of her knife gripped in both hands shaky. She didn't know when she took the knife out, but holding it, she felt safer.

"_It's not your fault Cris."_ Easier said than believed at this point. But lately, it was the guilt that scratched at Cristine's heart. This was her idea, after all. All of it was. And she kept more than one dirty secret. It wasn't the first time she'd given Troy the incentive to torture and kill. Cristine thought back to the experiments, thought back to that family in the dessert. The little bodies she buried with her bare hands. She remembered the dingy and hot air of that night. If it wasn't for her journals, her knowledge and her piqued interest to see what else she could find out about the infected and use to their advantage. All of that was on her too. She should have never come here. Cristine her heart thumped. She heard the blood pass through her ears - beat, beat, beat—and looked down at her hands. She saw the flash of red leaking between the crevices of her palms. She noticed how her wet hands shook around her blade and inhaled. Grinding her teeth, she threw the knife somewhere in the back of the bathroom and her face writhed with agonizing ache that screamed collapse. She pressed the lower part of her injured palms hard into her eye sockets and a streak of red smudge over her face. Suddenly, she was hot and sweaty, so hot that she wanted to douse herself under the shower. But the moment she tried to get up to do that it left her body unsteady. The tremble shocked down into her hips and towards her legs, leaving her shaky. As if all the energy just drained out of her. Yet, her racing heart seemed to pound even faster, even harder. She tried taking a deep breath to calm herself, but her inhales were sharp and shallow. Her vision went darker and narrow, like a kaleidoscope.

"Ah!" Cristine pressed her palm into the front of her shirt, fingertips digging deep and felt the wetness seeping through. She bit on her lip and a thin trail of blood trailed down. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't even do that and the muscles in her face cramped together. It was so hard to breath and at one point Cristine felt the pain in her lungs turn agonizingly sharp.

"_Hold your breath for four seconds… come on I know you can do it. Even if you don't want me to, I'll be here." Troy reassured her in a soft voice and slowly closed the distance and Cristine watched the man settle down on his knee. His eyes were curious and cold._

"Go away." Cristine squeezed through clenched teeth, eyes screwed together, vaguely aware she was talking to a figment of her imagination and a flashback of the last time she had this heavy of a panic attack. Back out when she did what she had to do.

_Troy casually raised his arms, a sign he wasn't going to hurt. He quickly smiled. "I'm here for a reason killer. We've done this before... in the cabin remember? When you cut, gutted, and maimed that garbage. You did good back then. This isn't that different. Just listen to my voice." Finding it harder and harder to find her voice, Cristine searched for her breath greedily. The vague silhouette, those dark pools of blue that peered back as if she was a specimen for his next experiment. "Now. Hold your breath…" Cristine nearly choked on the air when she did, but the piercing gaze was a lifeline that latched onto. Those seconds lasted for what felt like an eternity._

"_Good. Now breathe out."_ Cristine parted her lips and exhaled the air stuck inside her lungs. _"Breathe in, breath out. Just give yourself space. And don't rush it." It helped that he regulated his breath together with her and soon enough the tightness in her chest separated itself from her lungs, liberating her. It was simply her and Troy catching their breaths, until it all went deadly still._ Cristine's burning eyes fluttered and she stared into the dark abyss of her empty room again. He wasn't there and Cristine's hit the back of her head against the door and knees a few times before looking at the ceiling. Thick tears now drizzled down her warm face. The nasally sound in the back of her throat shaky and stinging. Cristine definitely thought she made all the right calls. She had to... needed to or- her people would be dead. Her family would be dead. She used whatever and whoever she could to at least try and keep them safe. So why- why did it feel like her body was shutting down? She thought it would be much easier. Why did it hurt so much no matter what she did. Why couldn't she just feel nothing like her father did? Like Troy did-

"Cristine?"

Her thoughts came to a staggering halt, Cristine went completely still when she heard the hollow voice at the other side of her door. She quickly scrambled for her knife that she threw away and checked her hip, relaxing at the gun. A sharp gleam settled within her eyes. Her eyebrows scrunched together when the missing link to this horror and her anxiety appeared like a haunting ghost. The man who kept up this lies, the deceit... the pretend. Chin quivering, Cristine dipped her head to her chest. Her thoughts fogged up her wet stare and her twitching face went slack. All her conflicting emotions simmered down into a condensed ball. Contained. She didn't even feel the way her nails dug deep into her cut skin from how the bones pulled so tightly. It didn't hurt. It gave her a clarity she needed. She could barely process that Troy would actually cross a line, look her in the face and pretend nothing happened. He played her like a fiddle and lied to her face, after he said all those empty words of trust. Cristine rubbed the bridge of her nose, squeezing her burning eyes together and sniffed. The only focus, the only person able to calm her down now was the face of her sweet sister. Thinking of Hailey flooded her mind with an unexpected calmness. "She's the only one I can still trust." Despite not having her physically near, Cristine's lucidity slowly resurfaced from the dark corners of her mind.

"I know you're in there Cristine," Troy said, "I can see your shadow through the cracks of the door." Cristine her shoulders visibly drooped and after rearranging her hazy mind, she slowly got up from the floor. Unclenching her reddened palms, she rubbed her wet fingers together and snapped her head up, expression severe. Cristine twisted the doorknob and swung the door open and came face to face with Troy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Currently writing the big (or maybe not so big?) Troy & Cristine chapter! I was on a break, but I had a few notes I scribbled down for inspiration of the next chapter


	50. - Cristine & Troy -

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The long-awaited chapter my loves! Enjoy the angst!

Cristine walked through the door and slipped past the quizzically startled Troy. After getting an earful of Jake more so than his father he left the Big House pissed. What was done was done and he paid Madison's debt, rescued her daughter, and patrols were tightened for the Nation's attack. This was the second place he checked given his last conversation with Cristine, but the flash of those glowering eyes, sclera's streaked with a faint red and slightly disheveled appearance made him wonder what happened. Troy carefully watched Cristine move through the cabin to lit one of the lamps and the small light source seemed to be swallowed whole in the darkness. "The mission was successful, we saved Alicia." Troy propped his body against the wall and let everything sink in tonight, his eyes focused on Cristine. After she lit the lamp, she leaned against the edge of her medium sized table in the middle of the cabin, apparently listening to him. It was difficult to make out her face because of the small light, but Troy was so immersed in his debrief he didn't notice the mood of the room worsen with every passing minute. "We're back at square one, but at least it's on our terms again. Bodies dropped, but I'd say we're even again given that they were in the lead with that."

"…"

Tilting his head to the side and put off by Cristine's lack of response Troy finally pushed himself from the wall and walked closer. Her blurred face by the dark cleared up and with narrowed eyes his own face twisted into one of mock skepticism. "Thought you'd be happier to hear your friend is safe and sound."

"I got in an argument with Jake, a drunk Dolores, and my dad." Cristine her voice was hoarse, like she over-exerted her throat. Before Troy could ask, Cristine recited the events very briefly. "Jake's been angry ever since we began this war and for some reason thought I'd care more about keeping the peace. Dolores is paranoid about everything including my dad, cleaned up after her worthless ass and let her sleep her ruse off in the infirmary." While listening to the monotonous story, Troy had come closer and noted that Cristine's expression was remote. The second thing being that something was _wrong_, and his pupils stretched against the clear blue of his eyes; incandescent with ire the moment he saw it. And Troy saw it on her face as clear as day, blossoming as a purple black flower that stood out near at the edges of her right eye, imprint on her cheek and a uneven bump at the corner of her mouth. Troy his lips thinned and eyes turned beady, listening intently to the inscrutable woman retell the events. "To end this hectic night, I found out that my dad lied to me," Cristine's voice was a whisper and her mouth slackened. Bringing herself to say the truth aggravated her, apprehension at an all time high. She tried to stop her lip from quivering, voice steady in spite of the apprehension weighing down on her body. "The conversation didn't end well and after piecing it together, I confronted him. I needed to hear it from his mouth and I did." Cristine finally peered at Troy through unblinking eyes and said, "he told me what he did for you after you killed Mike and his family."

A stuttering beat of silence ensued and the awry expression on Troy's face gradually dropped and it dawned to him that the stone-cold look was aimed at him. That same guardedness from when Cristine arrived on the Ranch as the unwanted pariah. The stranger Troy and his men captured in the wasteland. It felt as if they were in opposite camps again, blind to each other as individuals and building barricades instead of bridges. Her gaze that tipped towards apathy startled Troy. He didn't recognize the Cristine standing across of him. _No_. Troy thought with a miniscule shake of his head, jaw slack until the bones underneath shifted from grinding his teeth silently together. How could this happen? That was _not_ the look Troy _wanted_ from Cristine. Not the reaction he _needed_ from her now that they declared war on the Nation. Not after all the progress they made. All the conversations they had. The plans they schemed. Sacrifices they made to maintain order and an example of how it all should be. The trust and vows of loyalty. The concern and care that didn't always make sense, but Troy never truly questioned them. They bonded and what happened in the cave- he took precautions before the mission so he could unearth that moment with Cristine again. Experience, understand and explore them.

A sheen glow perspiration coated her wrinkled up face with acidic heed. "You know I tried to make sense of it and I still can't wrap my head around it." The physical tears had dried up, but the betrayal formed a tearful ache inside. "That even for you- this was a line you wouldn't cross…"

"Not intentionally." Listening to his tempered explanation, Cristine straightened her body like a cynical cat. Her movements furtive. Her pointed glare sucked something out of the air. She never looked away, full focus on him, just him, never blinking. Her mind ran a mile to process everything Troy said extensively, "it was an accident." His eyebrows were quirked, as hesitance and what resembled anguish flooded his features. "It wasn't supposed to go like that. I should have followed your plan and taken you with me at least." Troy's confession was casual, like talking about messing up tomorrow's breakfast and not the cold-blooded murder of his best friend and his family. "That's what you want to hear right?"

Cristine didn't hear any remorse in his words. Her stomach dropped and the temperature in the room chilled. She really hoped this was a sick twist and her imagination simply ran wild. That she was a pessimist who looked at the worst possible in Troy. Given that things were fine between her and Troy, Cristine thought of mending everything with her father and Blake. But nothing was fine. Jake was angry with her choices, she couldn't trust her father, and now this with Troy. For Cristine, this was a new level of insanity. Murdering his best friend?! What did that make the people who didn't fall in that category? What did that truly make her? Cristine exhaled hard, face open shock at first that very quickly morphed into disbelief. Opening and closing with no sound leaving her mouth until the question did. "Would you even have told me?"

Troy moved his jaw, a movement that didn't mean much. He couldn't analyze Cristine or unravel the meaning of her disposition. She willfully shut him out and Troy tapped his fingertips on the side of his leg, his eyes probing before a breathless huff shocked his shoulders. His response reeked of disbelief, eyes pulsed and his voice sounded faraway, "not with the way you're looking at me right now." The roiling beast in the back of his skull stirred at the error of judgement. It seared, knowing no other way in which to interact. It finally found its acceptance and freedom in the Apocalypse within Troy. Extended its malignant darkness and violence necessary to function. It was confused by Cristine's response and anguish curled within Troy's being. She was rejecting him while they were forming this bond. "You know, I was sure as hell you would understand. After we won from them." His head moved from side to side, words casually accusing her, as if Cristine had done the worst thing imaginable with her reaction alone. Troy felt mislead.

"You're not the _damn_ victim or hero here Troy. So stop playing games" There was an edge to her statement when Cristine looked at Troy, eyes raised. From the way his eyes, a dimmed dark blue by the lack of light, lingered on her, Troy was assessing her, but Cristine didn't flinch. "Why do you think I would understand _this?" _Cristine squeezed the sentence through bared teeth, nothing but a whirl of acrid taste in those concluding words. Just when she thought she build a new relationship it was torn apart in the span of a few days. Cristine didn't want to believe that Troy could keep this sickening lie up this long. The fact that he managed to twist it even now and distract her with business that wasn't his to pry only made it worse.

Opposite, Troy battled with rational and emotional thoughts alike. Convinced he established a true camaraderie again after his closest relations, blood and non-blood betrayed him. It was still budding, yes, but Cristine brought with her something familiar, unique and new Troy wasn't willing to let go because of a fluke. What she gave him was pragmatic and ruthless, but also fiercely loyal and understanding. It kept him on his toes. Troy often caught glimpses of more, but it was nowhere to be found right now and he didn't understand. Why did Cristine look differently at him when they were alive and fighting to keep it that away? That was their end game after all; survival. Troy never once looked at Cristine differently or batted an eye at the things she did or proposed for safety. "Because no matter what you think of me. You know what's at stake and it's how we've always worked. I didn't lie when I said you can trust me Cristine. I still trust you. I wouldn't have picked you to be here if I didn't. Hell I should've done that earlier…. that's one of my calls I would've changed, knowing what I know now."

"What does that have to do with what you did to the Trimbols?"

Troy repeated, "like I said, you know what's at risk here. You're not going to risk a cesspool of suspicion and doubt now if it means we'll survive."

Cristine felt her heart up the base of her throat. The impatient scoff that escaped her mouth was a shaky mixture that tipped at the edge of cracking anger. "That still doesn't explain why you didn't follow the fucking plan. Return when you knew you couldn't go through and just get right with what Mike decided."

"People were leaving and needed a reason to stay and in the end they did," Troy clarified. Something itching inside Cristine told her that wasn't Troy's reason, not really, but he'd convince himself that it was. His actions and words confirmed that Troy didn't care about others or their feelings. No, he did this for his own selfish entitlement and need of absolute control.

"By killing your best friend and his family? We had a plan," Cristine said coldly, bile stuck at the back of throat. She put a slither of faith this was a cruel figment of her imagination. That, in spite of a war raging, she had been doing well for herself, tried to fix most of her relationships and forming new ones, in particular with the man in front of her. But her father covered for Troy and he made it look like _she_ was the maniac for questioning him. Question him for a logical reason and to take ownership of his actions. Provide her with clear answers to straightforward questions. It wasn't just because of those self-deprecating blue irises, it was the intelligent indifference behind them that present her with the truth. Between their gaze a battle was fought and Troy overwhelmed Cristine without flinching. In that moment she knew that the man she thought she could figure out was nothing more than a betrayer of her trust. Her heart ached from embittered feelings, in particular remembering what happened in the cave not even a few hours ago. Their many conversations and moments. How she considered truly opening up without having to constantly raise her guard still and act on her feelings for once instead of rationale. Now, look what happened.

Troy saw hesitance and scrutinized Cristine's changing expression. Took note of how her eyes glossed when faced with the knowledge of his actions. Sighing, he finally explained, voice a low whisper, "Mike _owed_ me. He needed to say it to my face." It was bad enough Troy was reminded of that night when mentioned. James and Madison didn't care anymore and Troy had come to see it as a necessary sacrifice. But he had to explain it to Cristine like he did to his accomplices. Troy confessed, "I went after them like I said I would. I needed to talk to him. We did- for a bit- kind of, but he said some pretty messed up stuff and I couldn't- it went bad." Troy shook his head and inhaled, the thought of his best and only friend leaving, of course Troy took it to heart when Mike betrayed on him. "I can't undo what I did and I should've come clean to you. I'll make it up to you." Troy voiced his error, but it wasn't because of a bad conscious of his deeds. He was already past that. It was more Troy's sense of being bound by his connection with Cristine. He owed it to her. Cristine stood in silence, gaze taking it's time to land on him in the dim light, but it eventually did. He stood there, piercing eyes staring back at her, face shifting anticipating her answer. "That's the truth." Cristine wasn't sure if Troy was referring to the situation with Mike or his messed up priorities of telling _his_ version of the truth, but she felt sick even trying to process his selfish words. Troy was still making this about him and his 'hurt' feelings. He made it sound as if keeping this from her was worse than the actual deed of killing the Trimbols. As if coming clean now, _after_ she confronted him would make things better.

"What do you want me to do?" Cristine swallowed, taking in a deep breath and exhaling more than once. "No, what do you want me to say? Oh, it was just a fuck up, don't worry about it? Thank you for your honesty? I will gladly pretend this never happened?" The brief flicker of his eyes darting away confirmed that he must've been hoping that and it made her sick to the gut. "So what happens now?" Cristine her face was cryptic. "Are you going to kill me next?" She sneered towards the end. Cristine couldn't help but want to flee out of pure instinct from this situation as fast as she could, but with Troy she had to put more thought into her words and actions. Especially when he was talking through his own insane logic.

"You know that's bullsh-"

She interjected, "or are we going back to the petty threats so you can keep me on a leash?" Cristine had too many questions, too many irregularities to be sure of her own or her family's safety near Troy. The fact that Troy hesitated now meant she was okay. But that could change. Just like he turned on his best friend, his parents, and Gretchen in a snap. What were their last moments when they realized they'd be murdered by the person who vowed to protect them? The person they knew for a lifetime. "If you can't answer me then get the hell out," Cristine ordered, voice calm and emotions nonexistent.

Troy opened his mouth, but he was at a loss for words. From head to toe, the uncertain air that covered his body was unnatural. He completely miscalculated the extent of Cristine's response. Anger and disappointment, yes, but not rejection _this _severe. To him, her response was too cutting for someone that barely knew the Trimbols. With the Apocalypse, Troy didn’t see himself as a bad person and it bothered him that most did. And while they'd never said it out loud, his father and brother held those same beliefs. Cristine had never called him that _after_ they became friends. Even when she often witnessed his dark side, but her indifference now visibly upset him. Troy rather have her yell at him, hit, and curse him to hell and back than _this_ regulated apathy aimed at him. That was meant for the enemy and he _wasn't_ her enemy. "No." The fact that she'd ignore him like this, didn't sit well with Troy. He shook his head, gaze locked onto Cristine as he tried to find the right words. "I rather you tell you're done with me now and I won't bother you anymore." Troy inhaled, but didn't blink, not wanting to miss any form of deceit. He couldn't believe Cristine would actually say something like that. They crossed lines, spilled blood, wash their hands and did it all over again. Without regrets or blame. So what the _hell_ was this!?

Cristine's face remained the same, "don't act like a victim after you just _murdered_ an innocent family, _again_. You don't get to do that and you don't get to hear me tell you shit. I said leave."

"Cristine just-"

"Get out!" Cristine yelled and began to push him out of her cabin. He could see the dew covering the whites of her eyes when she literally punched and clawed at his chest until Troy found himself in front of a slammed door. He took her rejection and anger to heart. It was bad enough Troy struggled with his self-control, but he and Cristine coexisted and worked like a team. But now because of this _situation_, she was pushing him away. Troy's face screamed collapse, but he kept himself together. It wasn't new. People quitting on him were always part of his life. Jake. Mike. His parents. Shrugging at the door as he didn’t have the energy to kick it open. Troy put the events in retrospective. Wasn't it Cristine who said the people shouldn't follow the Trimbols' example? No one would now. They all wanted to fight. So the mission was complete. James,_ her father_, asked him to lead and fight. So that's what Troy was going to do.

"These are war times Cristine and more will die. So if you're done with sentimentalities over people you barely knew and ready to do your part, you know where I'll be." Troy strained his ears to listen to the sounds, but there wasn't even a creak. If he wasn't inside just then, he'd mistaken the place as abandoned. Troy continued, "I admit it, I lost my cool, but I got shit done. No one is leaving, maybe for a long time, just like _we_ planned. And I have a duty to protect and serve this place. I can't worry about this now. It complicates things... complicates the two of us." They were building for the future of the Ranch and needed to move from sentiment for the ones that would never survive. Away from guilt and morality. It was much easier and safer for the Ranch. Troy had people to lead and even more to save and protect. At least he had two who trusted him in a way Cristine didn't. Which meant that what he had done in that heated moment, albeit unintentionally, wasn't inherently wrong. The two that covered for him had everyone convinced this was the Nation's doing. And if it was for their victory, then the ends justified the means. That strengthened Troy and wiped out the last spark he had about overthinking Cristine's anger and betrayal. "Despite how this'll play out, just know all of this is meant to protect you too. You might not want to be around me, but after Mike you're- you're one of the few real friends I have left and I rather my friends not die. You're the first person I can truly be myself around. I don't feel like I have to hide or hold back and I- I'm grateful for that." It wasn't what she wanted to hear, but Troy wanted to say this out loud as it was his truth. He genuinely cared about this friendship. But with everything going on, he wouldn't lose any sleep if this relapsed back to the time when she first arrived. Troy simply hoped they could eventually move past this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'd love to read everyone's thoughts and opinions about this. Was it what you guys expected? More angst? Less angst? Just enough?
> 
> I'm satisfied with how it turned out and hope I've done Troy justice and conveyed the feelings/emotions that I wanted to for the both of them. ;).


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

It was early morning and Cristine took small bites from her breakfast to lessen the pulling pain at her mouth from chewing on her food. Her eyes were bleary, her head hurt and her face thumped like crazy and the exhaustion washed over her in physical and mental form. She hadn't slept last night, _couldn’t_, and before she knew it the day started again. Her body needed rest, yet her mind kept moving, pushing the emotions to back burned her tiredness right out. Stifling the sequence of yawns with her fists, Cristine winced by the traction against her muscles and slowly munched her way through bits and pieces of her food

"Coffee?" Tensing in her seat, Cristine twitched when a mug of piping hot instant coffee sat perched in front of her tray and she raised her eyes. She was quiet and attentive when Blake took the seat opposite of her. She warily looked around to see if more would follow, but it was just him. The others had breakfast at their table between the rest, where _Troy _sat and Cristine straightened her relaxed pose in reflex.

"Thanks." Cristine muttered and accepted part of Blake's olive branch and took a sip from the caffeinated beverage- perfect temperature with a spice of sugar; just how she liked it. She melted when tasting the sensation on her lips and made a small noise in the back of her throat. "Coffee was gone when I was in the line."

"You were late for breakfast." Blake commented, finding an opening to comment on her lateness. Cristine was always one of the first around because she opened the infirmary early and did her morning check-ups. Blake hadn't seen his friend until now and wanted to check on her. His blue eyes mapped the ugly bruising on the side of her face that was clearly recent and Blake clenched his teeth when he put two and two together fairly quickly. Rolling his own cup between his palms before taking a sip from the beverage, Blake listened to her two-word explanation.

"Late night." Cristine lowered her cup and picked up her fork to take a few more bites from her scrambled eggs.

"More like a rough night." Cristine paused when hearing Blake's direct statement indirectly referring to her face and swallowed her food. Her eyes were piercing and narrowed before her full lips pressed into a straight line. She faintly arched her brow at him in silent answer to lay off, but asked either way, "was it Dolores?"

"…"

"We’re a tight-knit community and people talk Cristine."

"Let them. It's not the first time people did that." Blake sighed in exasperation and looked away as a wave of suppressed anger for his friend clung around his body. Of course he was going to pry in her business when he knew the type of environment Cristine grew up in and what she had to endure, _still_ had to endure from her messed up family. Contrary to her tough exterior and directness, Cristine's weak spot was her family, as abusive and toxic as they were, but he'd protect her in his own way because they were friends. "I'm sorry, okay?" Blake suddenly said.

"Blake this is not about that-"

He cut her off, "well I'm still apologizing and I shouldn't have thrown all that in your face. It wasn't fair and you didn't deserve it." The apology in his eyes were his honest feelings and Blake wished he could've handled it differently than how he did before. "I get if you're not willing to move past this. Hell, I don't blame you for hating me. I was an asshole and two of ours got-"

"It's fine."

"No it's not."

"Blake, shut up and let me speak." He did stop talking at her order and hunched over with a look that was clearly remorseful and guilty. Cristine tapped on her coffee mug, eyes softening and a breathless sound escaped her nose, "even if I don't agree with what you did, I'll never hate you. You did it cause you thought you could help us all in the long run and I don't blame you for it. Sometimes, we tell ourselves we have a choice and that there are alternatives or other ways, but that can't and won't always apply. I'm not naïve. No matter how good or perfect a plan is. Something will always fuck it up."

"Well, I still feel like shit… looking at Kathy and her daughter."

"Me too and I'm glad for that. We've all build the guts to do things in the name of a lot of stuff, so we better have the guts to face the consequences." Blake was silent for a while, but he looked Cristine up and down and withstood the heavy feeling in his chest. He couldn't find the words to reply, but the markings on her face were something he couldn't forgive and Blake tied it to her statement.

"It still ain't right what Dolores-"

"Can we just not talk about it, please?"

Blake sighed, as unwilling as he was, he would respect her plea. "Fine, but you owe me a cup of coffee next time."

-

Time passed slowly. The militia was on alert. With the parley broken, bodies dropped and the two Founding Fathers were mysteriously otherwise occupied, but with Ranch matters, everyone was on edge. Security was tight, patrol shifts doubled and no one was allowed to go out under any circumstances. There were barely any accidents to tend to and Cristine kept her mind busy with the most menial of things to distract, even if her hurting face was a temporary keepsake. Taking stock of what they still needed in the long-run, Cristine turfed through it all, even the aspirin until a thought suddenly struck her; medicine had expiration dates. Looking around the infirmary tent with realization she gulped uneasily. There was no luxury to complain and any medicine they could find now would do. As tempting as it all sounded to hold onto the stock, once expiration dates passed there was no guarantee that using the medicine would be safe or even effective. When it all expired, it would be imperative to find a way to learn how they could make them on their own.

"It's tempting if the only tool you have is a hammer and treat everything as if it's a nail." Cristine mused absent-minded and scratched the top of her head.

"A Maslow quote? Where's the emergency?" Started from her thoughts, Cristine turned in the direction of the entrance. Blinking, she registered Alicia and Cristine moved with a bright expression. She moved through the space, same as the younger adolescent did and pulled her into a hug. 

"I'm glad you're back." Was the first thing Cristine said before putting some distance between them. Alicia's expression dropped, mouth curled down together with her deeply scrunched eyebrows and exclaimed, "What happened to your face?" Her eyes darted over her face and it made Cristine a bit uncomfortable to see her wide, blue eyes be so intrusive to what her expression might reveal.

"It's nothing serious, an accident. How are you?" Alicia let it go now and her pouty lips perked up into a warm, appreciative smile.

"Considering everything that happened last night, _I'm_ fine." Curious eyes scout the infirmary before she softly asked, tune a bit guiltily and nervous, but excited. "Where's Hailey? I need to thank her and apologize."

Cristine winced, expression showing pain, not for herself, but thinking of the way Dolores and their father punished her younger sister. "She's on cooking duty and doing inventory for the pantry for a while… I guess you can say she's grounded?"

"I'll definitely have to make it up to her and you. I just up and left work here." Alicia rubbed the side of her arms and looked at her shoes. "I'm sorry, I just- I was worried about Jake. He was going to do something stupid."

"I know." Cristine sat down and sighed. "It's good to have you back home and alive. Both of you."

Alicia couldn't help but meet the concerned eyes, the sisterly streaks that she always saw directed at Hailey now aimed at her. She supposed that's what an older sibling did; worry and protect their younger relative. Alicia wasn't used to it and never really had that from a certain age. She was young when she helped take care of Nick when he started using. Her mom also focused on her troubled older brother. She had to grow up and be strong. "They weren't going to hurt me Cristine. They never did. I contributed where I had to and everything was fine until my mom and Troy showed up yesterday. Now Jake's parley is ruined."

Cristine was speechless for a second, not having expected her to defend Walker and his Nation in a way. Alicia slid her hand down her arm and sat right next to Cristine and stared at the open area. "I kind of wonder if what Walker did at the outpost is worse than what we've done so far. What I've done."

"What did you do?" Cristine asked, not blaming Alicia for doubting herself. She herself had done that often until she found her family and finally belonged. Her own doubts resurfaced now with the knowledge of what the lines her father and Troy crossed for safety, protection, and survival. It hit too close to home and distorted Cristine's belief Broke Jaw Ranch was truly a uniform community. It was a lie and pretend.

Chewing the inside of her cheeks, Alicia scratched her jeans with a severe eyes that clenched and unclenched from the glower. "I killed a man. I didn't feel anything when I did it. Sometimes, I think about him. I killed a man to save Travis and in the end he still died. I had to tell my mom- when I could've kept holding on to him when he tried to jump, but I didn't. I let him go - and he allowed me to. Maybe if I held on to him, we could've saved him… and it wouldn't have been for nothing."

"I once had a notebook where I kept the names of everyone I lost. I lost them because of other people, some stupid accident, the dead, or because they couldn't handle it anymore. I eventually burned all those notebooks and you know what? I remember them more vividly than the ones I had to kill to make it to where I am now and keep Hailey safe," Cristine said with downcast eyes and her lids fluttered, thinking of the many thing that happened. "I don't know if the self-guilt will ever pass. It still hasn't, but I've learnt to deal with it in my own way."

"How?" Alicia's voice cracked, pressure filled her cords and she squeezed her hands together. If there was some kind of trick to keep and feel normal and with purpose again. The infirmary gave her that and being around Hailey and Cristine too. It had given her the feeling of living instead of surviving. Coping with the loss of the people in her own life and the things she had to commit was difficult and Alicia hoped Cristine's advice would alleviate some of those burdens.

Cristine her expression became gloomy and the light in her eyes dimmed, stare callous as she explained her method to keep herself focused and shut off her emotions as best she could. She used it even before the apocalypse and had tweaked it to do what she did now. "I always assume the worst. The worst that can happen to my family, my friends, and everything I care about. Usually it's people because, unlike the dead, people are unpredictable. Then, I assume the worst in a person. The worst things that motivate their actions and words. It tells me what I need to know. Then, it becomes a job I have to deal with them effectively or everything I care about will be gone. And to do that, I can't be distracted so I block out everything else. It's kind of the same feeling I needed when I had to deliver Kathy's baby during the attack. A decision with life-and-death consequences where I _need_ to isolate my emotions."

"That's sounds complicated and hard." Alicia commented after a while, partially processing Cristine's method, but also understanding it. When she killed that man it was to save Travis and her family. She didn't think then. She just did. But with the Nation, she saw how they lived, same as them, and Jake's parley gave her some hope. Even if Walker was a hypocrite, he still cared about the well-being of his people. It was more than Jeremiah had done for the Survivalist.

"Not really," Cristine countered, "because after this decision, I'll most likely have to do it again, and again, and again. You don't really think about it anymore. Like I said, you see it as a job until you see your family and friends safe and alive. Your home is still standing. We have food, water, and medical care. That's how I know I've done my job."

"Living at a distance from yourself and your emotions can be a comfortable state to settle into. It can be dangerous and risky." Alicia peeked at Cristine from the corner of her eye, curious.

"Maybe, but we're at war with people who want us dead. Who already slaughtered some of our friends. Your stepfather. I wish I didn't have to be strong all the time, because I can't and I'm definitely not, but this help me. It helps me make sense of things now." Cristine wasn't sure if she was trying to convince Alicia or herself. Rubbing her fingers over the back of her knuckles, she remained quiet. She didn't know what else to say, but be with Alicia as silent support.


	52. Chapter 52

"We need a medic!" Both Alicia and Cristine turned at the sound of the agitated announcement. A second later an unsteady Jake stumbled in the infirmary, both arms propped over Troy and Blake, who carried him inside. His head lolled miserably to one side, revealing the stream of blood dripping from the base of his forehead from a deeply inflicted cut. Alicia gasped and Cristine cleared one of the bed and quickly checked on the wincing Jake's head wound when they laid him down on the cot.

"What happened!?" Blood was drained from Alicia's face before a hint of anger blossomed in her sharp eyes.

Troy answered in a heavy tune, watching his brother with narrowed eyes, "Jake wanted to placate Walker with the water and bring back the hostage to make up for the broken parley. Seems Walker wasn't very receptive to his offer and gave him a reminder what he'll do to us next." Troy his eyes then shifted to Cristine, back facing them, who was distracted examining Jake. Troy licked his bottom lip and asked, "how bad is it?"

Cristine checked the wound closely and gave her diagnosis in a few sentences, unhurried, but mindful of the trauma of her friend. "He must've applied direct pressure to the wound since it's not bleeding as much, so that's good. The cut is deep, but we need to close it after it's cleaned. He'll be fine."

"I'll do it," Alicia offered and grabbed the medical supplies necessary to tend to Jake. Cristine nodded and gave Jake a brief glance, concern laced in her eyes when she snapped out of her nursing mode. Feeling four eyes on her, she looked over her shoulder and glowered at the two men, her glare that much sharper the moment it landed on Troy. His facial expression was controlled and for a second the lightest twitch near the corner of his lip was noticeable. Troy naturally shifted on his feet and addressed Blake in a cool voice, "make sure we double the men at the gates and cover all exit points. We're on defense until Otto and James decide what we'll do now that we have an official declaration of war. The Nation might press for an attack now." Troy saw the hesitance in Blake's pose when he looked between him and Cristine, having picked up the dour tension between them that was silent, but filled with an unexplainable hostility from the woman's side. "No time to waste Blakey." Picking up Troy's hidden tune to keep his comments to himself, Blake decided against saying anything and left with a nod. The second Troy looked back at Cristine, he noticed how her shoulders hunched up stiffly and it annoyed him greatly she felt the need to be on guard around him. Troy believed that maybe, after giving it a night, Cristine would let it all sink in, think this sacrifice through and understand. She'd forgiven Blake, after all. Troy hoped maybe Cristine would be less defensive and accept this reality and not look back. What use was it looking back? The past was the past and what happened had happened. A price that would be worth it in the end.

"Can we talk?" His blue irises flicked between Cristine and Alicia tending Jake. Alternating the brush of his fingers and palms over his knuckles, Troy scratched his throat and gestured at the entrance. "It's important." The baritone voice hinted that Troy wanted this conversation to happen away from prying ears and the hope that she follow him without making things difficult. Those dark inconspicuous irises were dimmed like a stranger looking at another stranger. Troy ignored it together with the tingling sensation in the back of his head. It roiled in his skull since last night and hooked itself there, growing heavier with the hour. It was annoying.

When they stood outside, secluded, Cristine asked straight to the point, "what?" she clearly didn't want to be in his vicinity, let alone talk if she didn't need to.

"Your dad and mine made it late at our house last night." The insinuation of the two men getting drunk irresponsibly without care of the peril the Ranch made Cristine look away with unsurprised disdain and she crossed her arms. "Jake and I don't think they'll be able to make the right calls, given the state they're in." The slight drawl in Troy's voice was tense and in his comment belied an impatience to him wanting to do more than sit on his ass after Jake's fiasco and the threat of Walker growing every single day. 

"So Jake decided to give away our water reserves, leaving us with nothing." The pointed accusation was brief and Cristine asked, "so you want to call the shots?"

"Well we can't be holed up here when Walker can attack any time soon. He'll be pressing for it one way or the other and we need to be ready. Jake already compromised our safety a few times with his turn the other cheek bullshit and our last two Founding Fathers are too shit-faced drunk to lead either. I'd say there aren't many who are qualified. We have contingency plans in place for situations like these." Troy's word resonated with what many Survivalists whispered and he was glad people had so much more fight in them than first. Shame it took so many sacrifices for them to reach this point. Troy at least Cristine's advice to be sure of the best course in case things did turn for the worse. He might not make it since would be at the front lines. Troy had some ideas. He believed attack was the best defense, but he needed more than a hunch to put his plans to fruition and that's where Cristine played a part, medic or not.

Cristine frowned in disbelief. "So you want to attack? Knowing they'll expect it and where they have the advantage of the terrain. It's risky."

"Maybe, but if we are ahead of them some way or another-"

"What're you doing?" The suddenness of her question left Troy visibly confused, which only managed to make a scowl appear by his lack of awareness. His lack of remorse. "Why are you acting as if last night didn't happen?" Troy let her question sink in and agitation leaked on his face. He looked elsewhere when Cristine repeated, pushing his mind to a place he rather it not go right now, "why are you coming to _me_ for all of this?"

In spite of how quickly things changed in the span of hours, Troy's feet still brought him to Cristine. It was a habit to discuss all of this with her. At times, even easier than having casual conversations. Her clinical and pragmatic views of the situation to better their chances of survival something that had become as normal to him as going out on runs. It became part of Troy's routine. But there was this wall Cristine deliberately put up and it turned into a pettiness Troy refused to entertain. "Because that's not the priority right now and you know that so don't play stupid. You can curse me all you want _after_ all this is over."

"Ask Madison. I'm sure she'll be thrilled to know she has a chance to control the narrative instead of lurking in the shadows. I'm sure she can come up with something right up your alley." Troy stared at the shorter woman for one long moment and made a clicking sound with his tongue, but he didn't deny her claim and instead said something that struck a nerve, "at least I'm honest about myself. I know you're venting on me that bit more because you thought you would finally fix your relationship with your old man and you can't. You won't. You know why?" Troy drew close, his question rhetorical, but there was a shared truth in his answer that rang true for him too, "because he's a drunk who pretends he's changed now that there's a new world. Easier to forget all the shit he's done to you before. He hasn't changed and he won't, because that's not who they are. They're selfish to the core and will only pretend to give a shit about us when it suits them."

"You're wrong." Cristine her voice shook, knowing Troy spoke the cold truth and her lashes fluttered infrequently over her eyes. Cristine lowered her face in reflex when Troy stepped close and stopped half an arm's length away. She exhaled sharply when his rough fingers grazed against her bruising face and recoiled from the pain on her sensitive skin. The touch was mindfully callow and such a contrast to his otherwise cold words. The responses Troy still elicited within her, as brief as they were, fluctuated between disturbing and painful. Cristine swallowed the intense feelings, because they weren't normal and she should put a stop to it.

"_This_ is wrong," Troy murmured, eyes narrowed when he watched Cristine suck in her discomfort, trying her best to stay indifferent to the marks of abuse from her father that made her act so uncharacteristically timid. It was a vexing sight to behold given that it was so unlike her. When it was any other person that caused her harm Cristine gave them hell. He understood her response; James was her father, her blood, and you protect your family no matter what. But James wasn't _his_ family and Troy didn't care if his words were insensitive or cold in regards to her abusive father. "You know it. And he's being predictable by picking up a bottle."

"I know that what you did to the Trimbols is wrong too." Logic punched through and Cristine put a stop to what Troy was attempting. She closed her hand around his wrist, pulling his hand from away from her face, where she broke contact and exposed his tactic, eyes sharpening. "And so is what you're doing right _now_. Choosing a spot where no one can see or hear. Drunk fathers; we have that in common. The senseless outrage and their neglect. You're _using_ that. U_sing_ what my father did to make it sound like what you've done is the lesser evil. It's not. So stop manipulating the situation and own your shit." The sudden, but brief arch at the corner of his lips made Troy's play clear as day. The tilt of his head revealing the sparks of diversion within his clear eyes. He was engrossed with how Cristine managed to hold his attention. Never predictable. Kept him on his toes. Cristine would play along until she reached her limit and now she had, at the expense of their friendship, and that was unfortunate.

"Well you forgave Blake. He's the only one in a decent mood considering everything. You talk about me owning my shit, but you're just being a hypocrite, playing the virtuous person. I'm honestly getting bored talking in circles about this. Fact is, you're choosing your anger at me at the expense of everyone here right now and that will muck things up." Troy gestured past the gate and started his well-known speech about nature and how the world was now. "This is how we live and picking and choosing what is right and what is wrong has no merit for the Ranch. There's nothing moral in anything any of us- you have done and continue to do. Survival cuts both ways Cristine; you do what you have to do and live with what you've done… or you don't and check out because you feel it's too much on yourself."

"Stop," Cristine rolled her teeth over her quivering lip. She was nauseas with herself, with Troy, and everything around her. Her sight grew blurry and the tension in her face and limbs grew, her mind replaying all the vulgar and vile things she had done, the things she had to push through. The knowledge of what Troy and her father brushed over. Her breathing became more rapid, more shallow and she pushed him again. His lips moved, but her ears felt clogged and his words became inaudible.

"...tine... brea-..." a creeping blackness was in her peripheral and Cristine clutched at the dirt with her fingers. Sweat drizzled down her face in abundance and tears rolled down her face as she repeated the words, "stop it!" In seconds Cristine curled tight, trembling body the only movement and salty tears running down as she gripped at the rough fabric. There Cristine stayed unaware of the time until her overwhelming urge to vomit passed. Feeling a hand cup her wet cheek, Cristine dazedly looked at the blue eyes, concern swirling through them. So unlike the darker hued blue of the man who just made it his mission to drag her through the fringes of his irate mind. No, these were the eyes of someone who she could genuinely regard as someone who cared about her beyond the ugly and merciless things she did and thought of.

"Hailey?" Cristine croaked, her confusion apparent as she remembered that Troy was the last person trapping her here to make his point. So seeing her younger sister instead of Troy added more to her bewilderment. Had she lost her mind and imagined it all? Or did Troy just leave like the maniac that he was?

"It's me," Hailey confirmed softly and Cristine visibly relaxed when she felt her sister's hand gently brush her face and rub her arm. "You were having a panic attack." The worry and care unclenched the heavy and cemented feel in the pit of her stomach. Cristine dropped her head between her shoulders, exhausted by her body's abnormal reaction. They were returning and she hated it. Hated to be so weak when she collected her courage to face her own demons. Face these things that made her stomach churn deep down, but were also a necessity and dissolve that same horror she felt. Maybe this was simply the start of confronting her own insecurities and fears. But why were they only returning just now?

Cristine sighed, "yeah, not glad those are back."

Hailey helped her to her feet, silent as she felt her shaky hands clench her arm. She wasn't sure what had happened, but made sure to have Troy leave when she heard the voices and much to her shock witnessed Cristine raving at the militia leader who tried and failed to calm Cristine. Her sister was clearly agitated with Troy. "It'll be fine," Hailey softly assured her and pulled Cristine into a tight hug.


	53. - Cristine & Hailey -

Hailey always admired her older sister. She was loving and patient, but also so direct and realistic. When Cristine was needed, there she was like a shadow. Available and her readiness was there for those she felt were part of her world and everyone outside of that coldly. During personal crisis, Cristine was there to sometimes listen and other times to give cutting advice that made you angry. Her sister always protected her from danger; shielded her from their dysfunctional parents as best as she could until she chose her own wellbeing. Left for college and got a place of her own. Then, their bond became strained and she barely visited home anymore. Hailey thought it was because of her at first and she was angry with Cristine for leaving her like that. What big sister did that? Their phone calls became infrequent and it felt like talking to a stranger. Then, their parents decided the three of them would move to San Diego, to a Survivalist community and start new, mostly for their father and partially to forget the crazy world. Hailey didn't mind, she had no grand plans like Cristine. Then, the apocalypse happened and it felt like fate that they did what they did. Hailey had hope things would go back to normal, but they only got worse and one unexpecting day, a week or two in the new world, Cristine was here. She'd come to look for them all the way from San Francisco. Hailey had mixed feelings about it at first and the negative emotions returned and she followed her mother's behavior. Until she saw how the people here treated her like a pariah, like something other, and Hailey's attitude changed a full 360 degree.

So many things had happened since then; her sister got her own outpost and things were looking to get better until the Nation happened. Her father became colder and her mother tried to cope. Most of what her sister said came true; the world was only going to get worse and they needed to be ready. She was right, because before they knew their people got killed left and right; Mike and his family were now slaughtered and that changed Hailey's outlook on everything. She had to make herself useful, at least behind the gates and Cristine gladly took her under her wing together with Alicia. Hailey was learning so much and it was all thanks to Cristine. Hailey was so focused on herself and her sister that she hadn't noticed the deteriorating relationship of her mother and father and them returning to patterns she thought they'd healed from. The alcohol, their lack of ownership, and resentment for everything around them. Even towards each other. Her mother took it harder than their father, at least that was what Hailey guessed until she witnessed Cristine and heard people talk.

Hailey pressed the ice pack on Cristine's face as gently as she could. Her sister didn’t really flinch, thoughts seemingly otherwise occupied. It was quiet between them and Hailey wouldn't speak until her sister and Cristine mentioned, "nothing's broken, but I need to change out the cold treatment with warmth after today."

"Okay." Sucking in the impatient question on her lips, Hailey just agreed. Moving her jaw back and forth, Hailey lowered the pack after a while gaze between their bodies and she chewed on her pink lips, until Cristine nudged her to stop. "Thanks for looking after mom last night."

"I did it for you." _Not for Dolores_. That was the true meaning behind Cristine's comment. Hailey nodded in understanding and distracted herself with the ice pack. Her forehead wrinkled together with the deep seated frown between her brows. The unfairness glared her right in the face and Hailey's mouth crumpled together into a scowl. The truth was that even with all the responsibility she wanted to take on and be like her sister; Hailey knew Cristine would always protect her and the shit she got in return wasn't worth it. Cristine didn't deserve any of this. She deserved so much better.

"I thought they'd change and we could start over when we came to the Ranch," Hailey commented begrudgingly and the grip on the compress tightened after raising her eyes at those dark, starlit eyes that stared right through her skin. "I feel so stupid thinking they would." The truth was, their father's recent coldness left the Gerrard's family dynamics discombobulated and confused. None of the three had seen him like this. The usual tender and softness of the family was still there, but it was so very cold and calculated; selfish and cruel at times. "They always hurt you and it's not fair."

"…"

"Mom drunk herself to oblivion and you still took care of her when you didn't have to. You should've left her where you found her. And daddy-" Hailey's angry blue eyes spit fury and as hard as she tried to withstand the anger inside her trembling body, she couldn't. "He's a coward. I'm going to talk to h-"

"No, you're not. This is between me and him." Cristine cut her off with a shake of the head. She didn't want Hailey to have anything to do with her and their father's fallout. She couldn't even properly face her younger sister _knowing _it was Troy and their father who did what they did to Mike. Hailey needed to stay as far away from it as possible, so yes, she would happily receive this blow.

"Stop treating me like I'm a five Cristine! I don't care what you said to daddy, _nothing_ defends doing _this_. Ever!"

"I don't care. I don't want you involved," Cristine replied hotly, blocking her sister's attempt to meddle.

"Why?" Hailey demanded an explanation for her sister's meek reaction. Cristine didn't have to bear all these emotional and physically burdens. She didn't have to endure this continuous cycle of abuse from their father and her mother. She needed to get out of it.

Cristine her voice cracked for a fraction when confessing softly, eyes glossing over, "because I don't want you to! You don't need to talk to him. You know what's messed up? I'm more shocked he hit me because he was sober. He's- he's never done that. Daddy _always_ apologized and gave me presents when he was sober. When he was sober I actually felt safe, as crazy as it sounds, and I always held onto that. Now that's gone too. I thought he'd changed same as you and I finally know that he won't. So don't look for him. Don't ask him for an explanation. Daddy made his choice and so did Dolores. Like you said, you're not a child anymore, so if you want to help me, you can do that in the infirmary. Where we do our part."

"And Troy?" Hailey simply pressed on when Cristine showed a face of disdain. It was an expression she hadn't witnessed from her sister in while in regards to the militia leader. She watched Cristine open her mouth, words on the tip of her tongue, a deep-seated frown tightening with the motion, but then she decided against speaking. The shifting of Cristine's facial expression was stronger than any verbal comment and Hailey pried, "is he acting like before? When you just came here?" Blue eyes trained on dark brown, calling out the spot on observation in one guess. Hailey had noticed that with Cristine's return she _tried_ to mend things with Troy Otto, the most unlikeable, assholish and bizarre individual she ever laid eyes on. And for a while that seemed to be working really well for her until today. Cristine kept onto her grudges, but at one point she and Troy got along as a bit more than acquaintances… at least where it was concerned when it came to making some tough calls. Her sister would never expose her to the questionable things she had done, she always avoided mentioning them, but Hailey was aware that her sister had taken lives… done extremities for the sake of family; just like their father, and both thought she hadn't notice. She had. Hailey figured it out pretty quick and was concerned of the after effects it left on her father and sister mental state. It was just that with Cristine, Troy always seemed to be involved. While it was him just doing his job on the Ranch, Mike's questionable stories of his childhood friend were a bit disconcerting and explained many of Troy's… interests and motivations. It explained why he was the way he was and it was unhealthy.

"We're just not seeing eye to eye about some things." Cristine didn't want to say much and left her answer as vague as she possibly could. Hailey said that she didn't love Mike, but they clearly had feelings of affection for each other and Gretchen was one of Hailey's few, if only, female friend her age long before Alicia arrived. Knowing what she knew, Cristine would carry this secret to the grave. It wasn't because of Troy, but their _father _was involved. Involved in the cover-up of Hailey's ex-boyfriend. The change in her body language and dismissal added a more to Hailey’s suspicions.

"Troy is an insufferable jerk, I know. I'm just worried you're reverting back to before because of him. Like he and everyone is your enemy again. I know you don't mean to do it, but you are, and I'm afraid you'll do things you feel you have to do when deep down you don't want to." With the heavy sigh came a shoulder drop. Cristine had no idea how the conversation suddenly turned into her and Troy. Hailey was too sharp for her own good. "I don't want see you lose yourself again and think you should carry things that are out of your control. You know you can tell me anything, right?" A brief sign of vulnerability flashed beneath Cristine’s face and Hailey relaxed her lips when she saw it. She didn’t mean to push her observations and bring back bad memories. Cristine told her many things. But it usually remained on those events, not really about how she _felt_ or her true _thoughts_. It was only once when Hailey had really seen her sister vulnerable, broken, and guarded all at one. Hailey spend those long nights with Cristine and they got through that difficult period together. It brought them closer. At least, that's what she'd convinced herself. "I can't do all the awesome things you do sis, but I'm here for you. You can be with me and away from daddy and Troy."

"I know." Cristine muttered along the lines with a downcast face and even with her answer, Hailey felt the wall her sister put up around her; impenetrable and detached.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A sweet chapter, because Cristine needs a break from everything.


	54. Chapter 54

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing much to say, but let's get into the action!

**"Graaggh!" **The smell hit first before she heard the hiss and a lump lunged at Cristine. The deviant corpse came straight at her, attacking out of nowhere. Before she even had the chance to identify this face that belonged to a Survivalist, clad in militia fatigue, Cristine was already looking at a snapping jaw and bared canines with thick saliva dripping from it's mouth. The heavy body pounced on her with the force of a defensive tackle. Cristine sprawled to the ground on her back and it all happens so fast she barely had time to cry out in shock or pain. The moving corpse landed on top of her, snarling with slimy, chattering teeth and - in that split second before Cristine realized she was trying to keep it as far away as possible while frantically looking to grab a weapon- the infected opened its jaw so wide it looked as though its skull was about to unhinge. Cristine caught one horrible glimpse of the recesses of the things throat - an endless hole straight down hell - before she instinctively jerked its weight to the side with as much power in her arm as she could muster. She barely had time to call out for help, not sure if she would get any and Cristine grunted until something hit cleaved hit the infected it's neck, the cadaver bobbed to the right from the blow, but the hard hit only managed to dent the neck, smashing through the softened flesh. It turned even more aggressive by the attack. The sound of the teeth snapping impotently with the pop of its jaw. Cristine panted and watched with started shock as Hailey clumsily delivered a blow to the skull, hard enough for it to jerk this time. A sequence of more hits followed, the blunt and improvised weapon indented the side of its face through cartilage and bone and cavities. Blood and matter misted down across her sister's viscous face. Cristine was shocked frozen for a while and watched as instinct drove Hailey who kept hitting. At one point she had the cadaver straddled between her legs, unmoving, and brought the stumpy broomstick down the skull with all her might. The remains of bone, matter, tissue and cerebrospinal fluid splatters the soil, coating her hands. Her ears hyperalert and sensitive to the distant thrums of motion: someone was coming her way!

Snapping her head up, Hailey jumped to her feet for the next line, ready to swing, only to freeze in her tracks like a confused deer suddenly surrounded. Pupils enlarged in her eyes from the adrenaline that rushed through her veins like a drug. Panting, her chest moved up and down from the hammering of her hear and lungs. Darting her frantic gaze around and clenching her slick weapon tightly, Hailey rigidly broke down her hostile stance and finally following the trail of blood at her feet. The quivering of her lower jaw didn't stop, the hyperventilation heavy and thick tears trickled down her eyes. "I- I- killed-" Hailey felt her throat burn before the soft and soothing call of her sister pierced through the teary fog.

Cristine scooped Hailey's chin, making sure she didn't concentrate on the mesh of grey matter, tissue and blood painted on the dirt, but on her. "You saved me." Eyes full of worry, Cristine searched for her distraught eyes. She stood in Hailey's line of sight and felt her shaky hands curl tighter around the iron grip on her blood-slicked stick. Blue eyes rose, unblinking and barely responding to touch worried Cristine. "Are you bit?" Hailey's answer was a tense headshake and there was some resistance when Cristine tried to take the stick from her hands, which Hailey reflexively put as barrier between them. Cristine made a face before carefully touching her wet cheeks, but Hailey quickly moved away from his fingers. Hailey wanted to look at the open cranium and gore behind them, but Cristine didn't let her and made sure she kept her gaze. Swallowing, the words tumbled from her mouth, afraid the justification wouldn't be enough. Hailey, however saw the relief flood her sister's bruised features and felt her eyes well up. "I didn't think. I just- I just did it."

"That's what you're supposed to do. Always. No matter who it is, okay?" The sisters were jolted from their reality when frantic screaming and shooting in the distance echoed. It was followed by groaning of the dead. Cristine instinctively reached for her gun and pressed the weapon inside Hailey's hand and took the stick. "Go back to Dolores. Lock the door and keep your guns aimed at the entrance."

"No. Where are you going?" Hailey shook her head frantically wanting to cry again now that the implications of her actions slowly began to trickle through. "We need to find mom and daddy and make sure they're okay first."

"Hailey-"

"We need to stay together!" Something burned inside Hailey before she made sure she garnered her sister's attention. "it's family first! Then we help the others." Debating her sister's words, Cristine eventually nodded and the two burst off together in the direction of the chaos. Cristine barked at the people without weapons to go inside. It was an infiltration of infected. Not just any infected. All the walking corpses were their own. What the fuck happened?! People were getting eaten and put down by their own left and right in the midst of the violent anarchy. Most of the turned donned militia gear and Cristine paled when she saw the dead faces of the new recruits she helped train. Cristine slipped her blade from her hip and sunk it through the skull of an infected coming for them without hesitation. The body stiffened and Cristine glared into the lifeless eyes and watched the body drop to the ground with a loud thud. Her eyes flared with ire.

"Cristine! Hailey!" The sisters turned in the direction of the familiar voice and sprinted in the direction of Alicia, Madison and Dolores.

"Alicia! Madison! Dolores! You okay?" Cristine was relieved to see alive faces between the chaos. Hailey tearfully went to embrace her mother tightly. Dolores was a bloody mess, frazzled but uninjured.

"We are. Have you seen Nick?" Madison asked, distraught by everything and looking for her son. This was an attack on them, but how were so many of their own hit like this?

Shaking her head, Cristine looked around. "No we haven't. What's happening?"

"Mom, where's daddy?" Hailey asked, but Dolores shook her head, indicating she had no clue either. The five women ducked in reflex when more gunshots sounded, fearful of stray bullets hitting them.

"We stick together. Let's find the others. Back's against each other and don't break the circle," Madison ordered, gun ready in her hands and fired a bullet in the center of one's skull. They tacitly formed a circle line between themselves. Cristine glowered when the one she hit went down like a ragdoll, milky eyes rolled in the back of it's skull. She moved without thinking about menial things, breaths coming out in pants from the adrenaline and exertion, body wet with perspiration. She glanced at Hailey and Dolores, sure they never left her sight. It was dark, people were running around without purpose or direction, and they were putting their own down as if they were rabid animals.

The night was bloody, chaotic and long.

-

Cristine's blade felt unbelievably heavy. Clenching the hilt in her palm until it hurt, the splintering pain on her bones cleared her mind. She exhaled and slid the silver of the blade into the pliable spot near the nape and pushed it in deep. Blinking, she stared at the spilled blood, the red spot blotted out over the makeshift pillow and announced, "I got another one!" Sniffing, she wiped her nose in the crook of her shoulder and raised her arm, signaling their cleaners to come and collect the corpse. Cristine stepped back and rolled her shoulders and neck back and forth before her eyes moved to survey the dozens of improvised beds stationed outside the overcrowded infirmary that housed their poisoned people. Most victims were part of the militia, hooked to IV's and pumped with antibiotics to relieve the pain. That wasn't even taking into account the wafting fermentation of decaying corpses of the ones that didn't make it. It was a medic's worst reality.

"Medic!" Cristine almost jumped, but her body burst into action, sprinting to the source of the sound as her boots heavily pounded on the dirt. Within her vision, she sucked in a cuss and demanded space from the people surrounding the convulsing young woman who went through a sequence of bodily convulsions. "Give her some space and don't touch her. She needs to go through it." Cristine looked at who she presumed to be the woman's parents, who were frightened and powerless to help their child. "Emma will be fine," Cristine assured them in a certain tune before she pressed her hand between her back and shoulder to position her on the side to clear her airway and loosened her collar and space for her to breathe. Cristine then cushioned her head and began to count the length of the seizure, which passed the one minute mark.

"Won't she swallow her tongue?" The question was an innocent one, but Cristine frowned heavily and shook her head.

"That's a dangerous myth. Try to open her mouth and she'll bite your finger off or injure her jaw. Like I said," Cristine glanced at the anxious parents who couldn't do much but watch their daughter. "she needs to go through it." As if Emma had heard her, the petite woman in her uniform slackened like a rag doll and Cristine inspected the damage and gently pulled her limp and sweat drenched body to it's previous position. Her chest movements were very shallow and Cristine sighed in relief at the slither of positivity in this medical hell. The feeling was short-lived when Cristine noticed something disconcerting near Emma's slender neck. She ran her gloved fingertips over the bumpy blisters and frowned. "Does Emma have any allergies?" she asked. Emma's mother, a lanky older woman shook her head through her welled eyes and Cristine assuaged them both with a smile and gave them concise orders. "When she wakes up make sure to talk to her and calm her down. She'll be disoriented, but the important thing is to comfort her. Don't give her any food or water until she's fully alert and call me when she wakes up so I can check on her, alright?" When Cristine was positive they understood her instructions and repeated them to her, she left for the next person.

The early sun was devastating and it felt like its rays bit into the skin. Cristine didn't have the time or capacity to work through everyone equally. As much as she wanted. Her body on full autopilot when administering IV's, checking on the injure and sick, cleaning up vomit, and worst of all putting down the ones that didn't make it despite all efforts. It was hell, but Cristine needed to push through both mentally and physically. Wiping the sweat from Blake's forehead with a damp cloth, Cristine grimaced. She empathizing with the agonizing grunts of pain leaving her unconscious friend. She remembered that he was fine last night, before his patrol. They talked for a bit and joked that she still owed him a coffee. He looked so fragile and susceptible now that it ached her to see him like this and she couldn't properly help him or anyone. This mysterious poison spread so quickly, it was nearly impossible for her to be sure of what it could be. But Cristine she took note of the symptoms. Bumps and blisters similar to those of Emma on Blake's flushed skin.

"Got you that IV drip for you." Cooper handed her the translucent bundle for hydration and Cristine replaced the empty pack with a new one. From the sideline Cooper silently surveyed the camp, seeing nothing but loss, defeat and hell. He was one the lucky ones still standing. "They really got us hard this time. It was clearly aimed at the militia, the rest are collateral damage."

Cristine agreed and brushed the out of place curls stuck to her forehead away. "With our forces this weakened they probably want to walk through the gates and demand our surrender. They'd be at an advantage." She looked at the bearded man, her face resolutely inquisitive and asked, "how many?"

"We lost thirteen, so far. Most militia. Lots of new recruits. Jimmy and Joe didn't make it." Coop rubbed his hand over his cranium, a tick of hidden anxiousness most experienced. His mouth twisted deeper, his rage a compressed lava on the verge of bursting out and said, "don't see how we'll recover from this or win anymore."

-

Cristine looked at the small, swelling ulcers with the black center. She'd seen them on so many more. It wasn't even a day, but the skin lesions were distinct. The sores varied for each patient, but they were usually near the face, neck arms or hands. Biting the flesh of her lower lip, Cristine glanced around the crowded infirmary. The mild cases had the feverish symptoms such as the vomiting, respiration issue, fatigue and mild aches. Then the more severe cases had swollen abdomen, severe vomiting and diarrhea of blood, lesions on the tongue and swelling near the lymph nodes. Cristine had an indication of what the poison was now. Especially after noticing the recurring symptoms that were alike. _"Bastards."_

"Ofelia put something in the coffee last night, a powder." Madison stormed into the infirmary, announcing what she could discover from her former friend, distracting Cristine from her silent diagnosis.

"What? What kind of powder was it?" Jeremiah asked confused.

"She didn't know." Madison shook her head, sharing all the information she knew.

"You sure about that?" Jeremiah asked, not fully convinced that the woman was telling the truth. They'd fallen for her sad story about being cast out by the Nation. This was Walker's plan all along.

"Yeah."

"Her coming back here. The bruises… it was all bullshit." Alicia held her arms up gesturing at the chaos surrounding them with disbelief. The Clark's were probably the ones with the most culpability given that they had a bond with Ofelia and vouched for her. Took her under their charge because of past relations.

"It was a hit on the militia." Jake added, jaw clinched and eyes severe. The healing cut at the center of his forehead apparent on his pale skin. Jake refused to rest even when Cristine warned him he was going to get sick from being around the unhealthy air of sick and dead alike. He was stubborn and didn't listen, taking on the responsibility his father should. Jake probably felt equally guilty about falling for Ofelia's lies. The woman the Nation supposedly because of the Survivalist breaking the parley first.

"He's burning up." Madison's expression was pained when bending at Nick's bedside, wincing when she touched her son.

Jake watched the mother guiltily and explained, "we have antibiotics but without knowing for sure-"

"It could be anthrax," Cristine piped from her position, eight eyes zeroed in on her. Shock sprouted from the worried expression and Cristine scanned the ashen faces. After a moment, she rubbed the corner of her temple with her fingers, trying to ease the throb in her skull. Her diagnosis sounded heavy and hollow in her ears. "The symptoms vary per person and I'm not a hundred percent sure, but the majority of the ones poisoned have ulcers and what looks like a rash or blisters on their faces and joints that turn into ulcers with black beads. "

Recovering from his shock, Jeremiah asked, "what would you need to do to contain it?"

"An anthrax vaccine preferably, but since we don't have that lying around; antibiotics. Lots of them. We administer them orally or intravenous. The antibiotics will either kill or stop the anthrax from growing. The rest depends on the person and how strong their body is," she explained and Madison stepped forward after checking on her son.

"Will just the antibiotics work?" Madison asked, hopeful and worriedly glanced at Nick.

"Depends on the stage; chances of the severe cases making it are low. We need to give antibiotics to those who still have mild symptoms first as chances are higher. The body needs to make antitoxins by itself to fight. Then we focus on the others. Also, it's not uncommon to get sick yourself treating people with anthrax. For those who don't have it but are at risk, you need to take antibiotics too as precaution." Cristine's eyes flickered in Jake's direction who tensed. She didn't have to spell it out loud that he, in particular, needed to be heedful working so hard with his exposed wound.

-

Like a foreman overlooking the scenery, piercing blue eyes take in his people, the ones still able at least, bustling about. Jugs and IV drips of water they were forced to use to tend to their dehydrated sick. Buckets of vomit and blood were discarded once full. Body with red dots wrapped in dirty sheets or body bags toted by at least two men. The truck going back and forth to deliver the dead to the single makeshift grave they would be buried in. Even outside, the warm air reeked of nothing but dirt, human excretion, blood, and medicine. The heat made it ten times worse and most walked around with improvised masks to safeguard them from the unhealthy air. Still, the crowded spectacle was still organized in a way. Troy watched the person in charge with scrutinizing eyes. "It's important to cover your face to decrease the chance of getting sick. Cover any open wounds you might have! If you have symptoms we will examine you to be sure! We have antibiotics to spare, but the sick are our priority." Like an overseer in charge of everything, that's how Cristine gave her instructions. She and Hailey were distributing masks for the ones strong enough to help. "We burn everything that's come in contact with the sick."

Troy rubbed the underside of his chin and his eyes frosted over. All their hard work- his work gone to waste with this attack. There wasn't much left of the militia beside him to gather now that they knew the poison they were dealing with. His father and James were nowhere to be found, _again_, Jake was busy with the sick like most, and he was prepping the dead to be worried. Even if most of the poisoned militia survived, they would be too weak to hold a gun when Walker would come. And he would come soon. They were played like a fiddle and the bitter aftertaste of not seeing any of this coming, even if his gut told him to get information out of Ofelia and attack, settled in Troy's body like a wounded predator. They needed to do something. There was no overall leader on the Ranch. No matter how much his brother tried to string all the pieces together he wasn't a leader. The last two Founding Fathers were unreliable.

"Cover your face." Troy didn't realize he was obsessively brooding by himself that he didn't realize Cristine approaching him, waving an improvised cloth in front of him. Her eyes were narrowed, brow cocked in question as she held out the fabric in front of him in silent urge to take it. Troy accepted the cloth, but he didn't wrap it around her face immediately and echoed the silent stare that seemed to go on for a full minute, before he said, "I'd say we're in deep shit. At least we can try to salvage who we can, right?" Within his sarcastic tune there was resentment and anger. "We should have attacked them while we still had the chance. But we kept showing our belly to Walker like some submissive dog and he befittingly took full advantage of that. We can't really blame him for our naivety."

"I heard we have leverage?"

"Some old family relics Walker supposedly holds dear. Seems like a stretch, but it's something. At least Jake and I are on the same page that war is all we have left." Troy wasn't completely sure if they could use old rocks and bones to sway Walker to not attack. Hell, they should've brought the fight to them in the first place, but no one had listened to him from the start. Sizing Cristine up and down, he noticed the tense hesitance in her body language and frowned. "No need to hold your tongue. Say what you want to say Cristine."

Cristine ignored the irony and silent jab in Troy's words and said, "you were right, this _hell_ we're in is because we held off at the wrong times. But we're still alive, for however long that might be. Listen, I'm needed here, but if you can talk to my father and figure out how we can make do with the people who can fight that would be great."

"Ignoring the old man, huh?" Troy processed her words, but at least Cristine could admit he had seen this coming from miles apart. It was always sentimentalities and feelings that clouded so many judgement. "Nothing to be ashamed of. I get it. But, there's barely anyone left to fight aside from me, you and a lot of amateurs."

"I can't help Troy. I have my hands full with the sick. Believe me, I _want_ to. My dad might be a drunk, but at least he's a drunk with military experience and a will take every chance to push back if there is a chance. No matter how small. Can you please talk to him?" The furtive movements of his penetrating stare, as Troy considered her plea, was a bit suffocating. However, he too saw the necessity of having to make do with what they could spare and miss. The dip of his shoulder and him distracting his hands with the cloth exhibited his concede.

"I'll talk to him."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Starting now there will be some deviations from canon ;). I don't have ecerything planned out yet, but I have this vague point of how I want it all to go. As always, I'd love to read what all of you think!


	55. Chapter 55

Cristine planted her palm against either side of the sink, bend over and sighed deeply. She absently stared at the disposable gloves and mask she threw in there and clinched her jaw. She had a brief break from the day on the vehement begging of Alicia, Hailey, and Jake. She'd never lost so many people under her watch and didn't think she would ever have to since she wasn't a surgeon in the old world. She just researched diseases and helped her mentor with potential monsters in the laboratory. If a disease had to be surgically removed, she just had to forward her patients to an actual doctor in the field. Cristine shut her eyes, feeling helpless as the faces of the now deceased flashed through her mind and ironically remembered their names. Ella, Hank, Nate, Karla, Joseph, Laura, Esther, Samuel, Sam, Clifford, Nelly, Riley, Molly, Kat, Bonnie… the list went on.

"How bad is it?" Opening her eyes again, Cristine looked over her shoulder to see Troy standing at the entrance of her tiny bathroom. He was still in his uniform and casually leaned against the frame. Callousness oozed from him, but at the same time there was a tired anger that shrouded his whole body. The militia buried a lot of bodies today and did double time patrolling. They were spread thin now, given that this attack was one aimed at the militia.

Cristine shook her head silently, not wanting to talk about their dead. "How did it go?" She asked, referring to her request he and her father talk. It was desperate, but anything would do at this point. Seeing Troy bit on his lip out of annoyance and shake his head afterwards, made Cristine just rub the bridge of her nose. Her father was useless. "How are the defenses?" Cristine her voice was soft. It felt weird to talk to Troy again after their many fallouts. This being the biggest one as of yet. It was always death and violence from enemies that made them come to the other to vent.

"Gone to shit. Me, Coop, a some green horns and a handful of young and old is what's left." Troy bared his teeth, the anger finally seemed to burst now that he was momentarily off duty and didn't have to act the part of a leader, but a Ranch member. "That asshole Walker needs to pay! The militia I get, we're fighters, but the others are helpless."

"Nineteen… we lost nineteen people so far and the only thing we could do was give them antibiotics and watch them fight. Never felt so useless." Cristine stared into the mirror, a weary replica copied every shift, twitch of the face. "They didn't deserve this."

"What happened today was on the Indians. Get yourself together and help me pick up the pieces." Troy pushed his body from its slanted pose and stood straight. Much to his dismay Cristine shook her head as response to his demands.

"I already told you, I can't fight with you _and_ patch up people at the same time," she argued and with a damp towel wiped the blood from her neck.

"A quarter of our people are dead and you did what you could. You have Alicia and Hailey, hell even Jake. Let Dave have some responsibility in the infirmary, he's a doctor too," Troy demanded.

Cristine tore her eyes from the mirror and looked as if Troy just made a bad joke. "Dave's a vet."

"He can handle it, just like Jake is. I'm sure that brain of yours came up with something to at least slow the Nation down. That bargaining chip Alicia mentioned sounds crazier by the day." Having caught the unhidden streak of his anger and didn't bother masking it, Cristine stood straight again with narrowed eyes. "What? If we can't come up with anything, we'll end up negotiating again like some cowards and I'm not having that. A lot of ours were poisoned, can't we do something like that in return? Now's a really good time to put some of that knowledge of your previous occupation to use."

It was odd how, even through his anger and their conflict, Troy was always on the same wavelength as her in way. Of course she had thought of a way to get back at the Nation. They were all too busy with the sick, wounded and thinned out security to even bother with a planned retaliation just yet. That's why she hoped that maybe her father had something up his sleeve with Troy. But when she thought of the people they lost to the poisoning and came back as mindless ghouls, Cristine had _one_ possible tactic they could use. It wasn't hard to collect, as it outnumbered the living at least 5000:1. She'd seen the virus up close and knew how it worked too, Troy's experiments as futile as they were, had merit when he ranted about his documentation to her in his mad excitement. "We can poison them back with-" the words tumbled from Cristine's mouth before she knew it until she paused midway and hesitated. Much to Troy's impatience by her disclination to share, he closed the distance between them and gripped both her arms, the pressure mild and controlled. He towered over her form.

Glowering down at her upturned face he coaxed in a low baritone, "whatever it is, it's better than this. This is war and the ends justify the means. You can't hesitate or be petty about it anymore." Troy gave her that look he reserved for when she crossed that line of demarcation. The ruthless and understanding eyes that convey Cristine wasn't _that_ different than him. Not in these aspects. It was just that she hesitated because of her current anger with him and her own warped sense of moral obligation. Troy had to nudge her. He continued in a steady voice, even with a light chide behind his tone, "at least nineteen people you couldn't save, but can get justice for. Your family amongst them. I have your back," he said without of hesitance in his voice or deceit in his constricted orbs. "Just like you'll still have mine in spite of everything." He referred to the Trimbols, knowing Cristine hadn't said anything and wouldn't ever say a word to anyone. She would keep this secret, because in spite of her fury and disgust with him and her father; Cristine was smart and loyal. She wouldn't betray him or this place. She wouldn't jeopardize family as messed up as they were.

Cristine suppressed a sharp breath from escaping her mouth as his fingers tensed around her arm, feeling drawn in by his words. Words only Troy was willing to say to her out loud without batting an eye. Even if he was clearly trying to get her on his side. But that's how they worked. Be direct to get what the other wanted, under the pretense of survival and protecting their own. Her father- he would, without a doubt, be furious with her dabbing her fingers in militia business again. But she didn't care. He ruined his chances the moment he hit her. "Then promise me," Cristine more or less demanded and alternated her tight gaze between his eyes. She had to be sure that Troy wouldn't break her trust again if they went through with her plan. He needed to follow it and prove himself. Her heart raced in her throat as if she would vomit the organ out and Cristine stepped closer, making their bodies almost touch. She watched Troy slightly tense by the proximity, but he listened intently to her condition. "That you won't betray my trust again and lie to me. Promise that you won't keep secrets from me... no matter how bad they are."

Troy's eyebrows rose up his forehead, surprised by her plea. Cristine never asked him to promise such things. Never thought she still cared about his opinions this much. She'd been very indifferent lately so Troy didn't understand why she still worried about this so much. Troy swallowed and remembered all the times he saw Cristine for who she really was; pleased and wanting more of that ruthlessly smart side. He would honestly thank her on his knees knowing she was willing to do everything and more for the Ranch. "I promise." Troy sucked the inside of his lower lip and stopped his body at the last moment for doing something he wasn't sure of. "No more secrets." Cristine nodded and breathed in. Troy's words were like a spell that changed her anxious eyes to frosty calculation. Even Troy had to double take and question the quick change in spirit. That shift couldn't be counted as normal. Troy moved on his feet and concluded that Cristine needed someone to say these things to her to give herself a peace of mind. Like some type of anchor. He still had a chance to make things right with her and go back to how things were before. It dissipated some of the rooted ire in his mind.

"We don't have the manpower, so we need to do this covert and smart. We'll probably lose more people, but I think this is our best chance to even the playing fields," Cristine began. Troy urged her to continue and in the meantime removed his hands from both her arms. There was a light discomfort for suddenly grabbing her like that. He reacted on reflex, but witnessing Cristine's indifference and obliviousness to his actions, Troy was able to leave it at that. He would have to be mindful. He didn't want to send out the wrong signals that he would hurt or threaten Cristine in any type of way. That wasn't who Troy ever wanted to be anymore in regard to her. "We make them sick, like they did to us." Cristine reached for his waist and gripped the handle of his hunting knife before she slowly pulled the weapon out and flashed the cold silver between their faces. "Get them back with some good old biological warfare." Light passed through Troy's eyes and the blue hue of his irises got brighter. Like fireworks burst behind them and it showed on his face as the gears inside his heads twisted and quickly puzzled the pieces of her plan together.

"Go on." Troy didn't hide his satisfaction at this point, smirk stretching on his lips. A mixture of surprise and eerie excitement when he listened to her plan. Use what nature had given and let it do the heavy work for them. It would definitely spare them some efforts. The dead were an inexhaustible resource he researched and Troy learned a lot of things the average person hadn't. Coupled with Cristine's extensive knowledge of the virus, this was using their intelligence and smarts to good use. It was perfect.

Cristine continued, "we collect blood and fluids from the dead, coat the weapons with it, and infect them through injuries."

"You sure it'll work?" Troy asked.

Cristine answered without hesitating, "it'll work. Whatever is inside the infected simply needs to enter the bloodstream. No antibiotics to save them. That's how we even the playing field and cut down their fighters like they did to ours." She broke eye contact and looked at the blood-slicked sink for a minute before staring at Troy with a much stronger determination than before. "If we can kill, we kill. But the main thing is to hit as many and let the infection do the rest. Have them fight off their own."

Troy ran his tongue over his upper lip and cocked his head, eyes narrowed. He was thinking and filled some gaps of her otherwise solid plan to weaken the Nation, "we give Walker the idea we're desperate. We aim for their fighters. The ones that are stronger and healthier turn faster. We can speed up the process by releasing the dead on their camp too. It means we'll have to get close to them, but we know the basics of the terrain. I think Jake still has a map of the reservation and I've been there to save Alicia. So we can definitely pinpoint the best places and blind spots to attack from without being noticed." Troy stepped back and leaned against the bathroom wall. He was quiet, thinking over Cristine's ingenious plan. This could _actually_ work. No. It was going to work. The only thing was gathering enough people to pull this off and that would be the difficult part. But it wasn't impossible. Cooper was an expert bowman. They were running very thin on fighters and didn't have time to recruit the able bodied people. They needed to act fast, had no leverage and were living on borrowed time; Walker's time. 

"You think we can convince your father with this?" Cristine's question made Troy snort as if she asked if big Otto would step up as a father and give a damn about his son or what he did- had done for the safety and comfort of the Ranch.

"Don't count on it. He's most likely still being drunk and miserable somewhere," Troy snapped in a low tune despite himself and curled his hands to the sleeveless part of his tactical vest. With his head tilted back, Troy's gaze remained fixed on a frowning Cristine.

"I think my dad's sober enough since the anthrax attack. So that leaves convincing him at least." She crossed one arm over the other and pressed her thumb on the center of her chin. The middle of her brows were pulled down, sloped inwards as she shared her thoughts.

"We should tell Madison. She will definitely back this." Troy didn't need to guess the mother's allegiance, Madison would do anything in a heartbeat if it meant saving her family. Usually, Cristine didn't get Troy's fixation with Madison, but at this point they needed ever single person on their side for this plan to succeed. "I'll tell Jake. You take Madison to convince James. You'll need the backup."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I personally like that despite all the conflict and angst between Troy and Cristine, they can set all of it aside to talk about serious things. It's like a business transaction/relationship and that's how they eventually started (albeit much more messed up). I hope you guys are enjoying everything. And don't worry, there will be progress, sooner than you think ;).


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy my loves!

Cristine's swallowed, her throat dry and scratched from the dry afternoon air. She leaned against the window frame, arms crossed and occasionally flicked her eyes in Madison's direction and waited for her pacing father to end his silent tirade.  She explained the details of her plan and her listened to it from start to finish. Afterwards, he got quiet and Cristine couldn't decipher an inkling of his thought process. Then, he began to pace for a whole fifteen minutes. It was nerve wracking and tense, but the two women left him to it. Finally, Madison strong voice recoiled through the cabin room, "it's a solid plan James. We hit them back and weaken them to like us. It's our only choice with our fighters so thin and it'll put us at a stalemate again."

Cristine darted her gaze from Madison to her father again. "I get that and I wholeheartedly agree, but Cristine-" Her father's stern voice and complicated expression unnerved her greatly. "-can you live with what happens next?" His stare darkened, almost smothering Cristine's response. What did he want her to say? No. No, daddy I can't? That would be a lie. She could. She'd sleep like a baby if they went through with this and it was successful. Perhaps that was the reason her father asked her this question.

"We're at a disadvantage and this is the best-"

"Answer the question Cristine." Her father demanded, surprising her with his tune. Even Madison peered at her, analyzed her with silent contemplation. In spite of herself, Cristine recalled Troy's promise and how normal he made it sound to throw away her morals like a crumbled piece of paper. Troy has my back.

"I care about those people as much as you did when you made the decision to lie about the Trimbols. Like you said daddy, this is how we live now. There is no room for regrets."

James was silent for a while, his expression hard to decipher. Not even Cristine could figure out if he was disappointed, angry or displeased. Her father simply nodded before looking at Madison. Brief surprise was plastered on the mother's face when Cristine had mentioned their lie so casually. "I'll inform Jeremiah."

"Will he agree?" Madison asked.

"I don't care. I just want to let him know as it's still his land." James glanced at Cristine and said, "go on. We don't know when the Nation will attack and time is of the essence."

Cristine could only nod and left her father's cabin with mixed feelings. She barely had any time to come to herself when Troy walked in her direction from the distance. Her mindset twisted back to full focus when she nodded in response to his silent inquiry. "My father backs it. He'll let yours know. Jake?"

Troy nodded and tipped his head to the side, "he doesn't fully agree, but he understands that talk is cheap with our disadvantage. We're rounding up the dead from the forcefield and plan on attacking tonight. The Nation is counting on us recovering and will attack while we do. We'll have the best chance poisoning their fighters through the infected and send the dead loose on their camp."

"Sounds like a plan," Cristine agreed.

"You stay." A pair of overbearing eyes darted Troy's way and Cristine opened her mouth to protest that she wouldn't, but Troy silenced her, "I need you on the Ranch in case shit does hit the fan."

"What about letting Jake and my dad handle things here?" Cristine asked, not breaking eye contact and scowled at his hypocrisy. Just because he backed her up on this and we're on speaking terms didn't mean that she'd just sit back because he told her to. It was insulting.

Troy raised his hands and shook his head before clarifying, "I know, but I'd feel less worried about the place if you stayed here and lead the ones left. We both know most people here are experts when it comes to self-sustainment, not clearing dead or fighting off enemies. We coddled them and they wouldn't know what to do. Not really. They aren't ready yet and need someone that can help them with those things. My father's not really an option right now and Jake looks like shit treating the people. He doesn't look good. Also, no full offense to your dad, but he's not as reliable anymore."

Cristine looked away, thought over his words and despite the streak of unwillingness on her face, she eventually dropped her gaze and nodded. "Fine," a strained mutter through her teeth. Troy made a lot of sense and he wanted to assure her it would be fine, but stopped saying those words at the last moment and pushed down the jittery vibes. They might be on speaking terms again, as he knew they would given the priorities right now, but it was clear Cristine wasn't interested in more from him. Baby steps. Still, Troy wanted to make it right. This was the first deed in the right direction to mend their fractured friendship. "Got it. I'll talk to my father and Jake to see if we can set up some sort of defense." Cristine looked in the distance, saw the people bustling around like busy ants and felt ill seeing all the stockpiled bodies. "You think Walker will care more about material things than taking the Ranch?"

Troy quickly corrected her, "try to," and finished with a thoughtful look. "That's why we're going with your plan to even the playing field. All this cheap talk and truces won't help us win. We shed blood during Jake's parlay, so there's no option but to fight until the end."

"Why?"

"What?" Troy frowned and the confusion washed over his face, head tilting to the side at Cristine's vague and out of the blue enquiry.

"Why did you really come to me that day? When you said you were going to save Alicia. Was it just because you wanted to fight?" Cristine was interested in Troy's answer. He lied to her about more than one thing and she wanted to know his true reasons. His motivations to manipulate the situation. Manipulate  her . Was it just because he didn't want her to know what he had done? Troy was impulsive and unhinged, callous and violent. Never stupid or this frantic. Cristine watched his posture wilt and the blank expression on his face spoke volumes when he looked away with strained contrition. She received her answer by his reaction alone.  "Let me guess... Madison?" 

"I owed her," Troy didn't even believe what he just whispered through his teeth. Cristine's shoulders bounced up when the scoff of incredulity left her lips. What Troy called owe was plain blackmail and he couldn't even be honest when admitting that. Did he still think this game he was playing with Madison was worth this... hell? She used him like a pawn and he allowed it and deceived her in the process. "And I didn't want to knowing what she's willing to do. She threatened to use your goodwill for Alicia if neither James and I would back her. We couldn't risk you. You're our medic."

Cristine didn't miss a beat when she heard his last two sentence and a deep-seated frown line her face. "Listen, if you don't care about Madison using you  I won't either. I just don't want me and my family have any part in it. If she has to do all of this;  coerce you to keep you on a leash, she'll put you down when she feels she can't control you anymore or are a threat to her children."  Troy didn't say anything. He didn't have to. And now, Cristine was glad he asked her to stay behind. That way she didn't have to be mixed in the Madison and Troy situation as much. The moment she stepped away however, her movement got blocked by a firm tug at her upper arm. Cristine whipped her neck around, glaring up and tried to wring herself from Troy's grasp. 

"I did it-" Troy began in a hesitant voice but was surprisingly at a loss for words. Why did he really do all of that? This? Go through this much effort when he usually wouldn't give a shit? To not lose a friend? Because Madison was going to jeopardize something that was his? Because he counted on Cristine to understand that some sacrifices, no matter how cruel, were necessary? That he had someone that piqued his interest for this long? Maybe all of that was true, but for Troy there was definitely more, more layers and uncertainties he had to uncover. Which, Troy was going to and Cristine had those answers. Of that he was sure of.

"If you don't want to tell me fine. Let go," Cristine demanded in a low voice, eyes blazing with an ire that still exposed her honest feelings about this situation; betrayal, hurt, and contempt. She didn't think Troy would listen to her plea. The way he managed to look like this lost soul only twisted Cristine's negative feelings into a big ball of irritability. He wasn't the victim in any of this! No matter how Troy spun it with his 'hurt' feelings and what he thought people owed him was a load of bullshit. No one owed anyone anything, least of all in the apocalypse. The Trimbols would always be an issue, no matter how hard either of them did their best to compromise.

"I'll make it right," Troy promised, his words more of an assurance to her. He didn't like that Cristine reacted offhandedly and downright ignored him when it wasn't about discussing the next battle plans or practical stuff. He'd like to think they were fixing stuff, despite everything. So he wanted to at least make her understand. Even if it felt that there was so much more than simply mending the trust of a friendship that was broken. "I'd do anything for this place. Even forfeit my life, you know that."

"We're not doing this!" Cristine scowled and tugged at the arm still hostage, but when Troy didn't budge, her throat tightened. Cristine wasn't ever going to make allowances or excuses for the things he did. Troy needed to understand that there were consequences to his actions and he needed to be held accountable for them. Especially ones like these. Whether that was sacrificing himself or making amends with everyone around him was his problem. Feeling her patience running thin, Cristine moved her free arm and gripped the hilt of her knife in a threatening manner. Troy's eyes moved and saw her knuckles stretch. However, she didn't draw her blade. It wouldn't deter him if she did or held it at his throat. At least then, Cristine would stop ignoring him. She'd show him more than glares and actually react when in his vicinity. He rather she yell and hit him than this judging silence. A reaction meant he was still on her mind and that was what Troy wanted. It was the second time her indifference annoyed him more and more. "Everything I do is for our safety. Including yours."

"I'm not repeating myself." This time, Cristine was about to draw her blade, but Troy his reaction time was just a second faster. A push and a shove later, Troy had Cristine caged against the side of the cabin house. They were hidden from anyone who might pass giving him free game to be overbearing. Cristine wasn't afraid. Doing this, Troy proved the point of the ones rightfully wary about him. Cristine kept her guard raised and her breathing low and controlled.

"You think I'll hurt you?" Blue irises move around her face, looking for an answer in the nick of her brows, twitch of her lips or fiery eyes. It was clear that her reaction ran much deeper than just what he did to the Trimbols. Even behind all that anger, she of all people understood why the Nation had to be blamed for this mistake.  To keep the people here and win this war. After Jake messed up his plan, they had this chance to keep the Ranch strong.

"Wouldn't put it past you after murdering your best frie-"

"I won't." Troy breathed and tilted his head in a serious manner. He tightened his hand on her hand around her knife and other arm when he felt her try to spring into action. "And neither will you. You know how high the stakes have always been."  He saw her scowl, but didn't deny his statement. "It's why you only ever share your plans with  me first. It's not just because you just want me to have your back. You need someone who understands that what we do now is necessary. Your plan to  poison the nation.  Torture .  Backing my plans. You did all of that without thinking if it was wrong or right. You also didn't ask Blake or anyone else. You asked  me . You did that because we see how things really are. How they're supposed to be. There are dirty roles that need to be upheld to keep all of this standing. I understand that. You too. We get each other Cristine. You can be mad about it, but it's the truth." 

Cristine bared her teeth, her arm shaking from the effort she put to fight against Troy. She wanted to scream and yell at him, but she didn't because he wanted that exact reaction out of her.  "No. If you really  get me, you would know I expect you to focus on what matters. Not you being selfish and making this about you time and time again and your need to control everyone and everything around you. If it wasn't for that, Mike and his family would still be alive and I didn't have to feel like shit knowing it was you who fucking murdered them.  You did that Troy." 

"I know," Troy replied in a low baritone. He felt the way her pulse quickened underneath his palm and Troy took comfort that she was reacting, at least inwardly. Troy listened to her sharp, accusatory words and his breath was not as heavy as it should be and he didn't interrupt.

"I have to look at everyone. I still have to lie and comfort Hailey because of what  you did Troy." Her voice cracked and Cristine lowered her face. Her instinct  ran rampant as she thought of a way to get  out of this situation and stop talking. She didn't want to talk about this again. There was truth to both their words and views, but Cristine had all these sick and twisted feelings cropped inside her that were  wrong . The only way to tamper them was to be away from the source and Troy couldn't even leave her be so she could process it properly. It was  suffocating . "I hate what you did. What you keep doing. I hate it."

Troy sighed, "I know." Cristine suddenly felt his breath against her face and twisted her head to the side, glaring elsewhere, trying to keep her emotions and breathing under control. Her eyes burned, but she refused to shed any tears. She didn't have any right to cry when, at the end, she was a damn hypocrite! Spill blood, clean it up, spill it again. Hide unforgivable acts for survival, get angry, but return to the same people that do these unforgivable acts because they were vital. Troy's behavior wasn't helping one bit and Cristine shut her eyes pretending she could block everything and didn't have to listen to him. "Give me chance and I'll make things right. I just need to hear you say things will go back to how they were when all of this is over." Her heart pounded and her own breaths came in short intervals.

"No," Cristine flat out rejected his selfish request.

Then, Troy's voice pushed through the fog in her brain, his explanation and honesty startling her. "I didn't lie. The reason I came to you was  because of Madison. She was willing to ruin everything and interfere in business that  wasn't  hers to stick her nose in. I needed to protect that. Protect our friendship. Protect  you ."  Cristine still didn't look at Troy, not even when she felt his hand squeeze the back of hers a bit tighter. Her eyes repeatedly fluttered from the building pressure in her sockets. The upper corner of her lips twitched from holding back her urge to scream and cry at the same time. 

"So what do you want now that it's still ruined without her having to lift a finger?" Cristine found her voice after Troy his nonsensical dialogue and exhaled low when his left hand, still wrapped around hers, slid down, giving up on making her look at him. Cristine involuntarily shivered.

Deep in thought, a wan smile ghosted on Troy's lips as he remembered her willingness to help him. When he didn't even have to ask her to vent his anger after Mike and Jake's betrayal.  Realizing she knew him a lot better than he initially thought. They sought each other out during the crucial and troubling times. Troy never really had that. Not like this at least and it felt good. He felt understood, supported, and had someone to trust. He wanted that back. No- he  needed that back for his own peace of mind and sanity. And Troy was going to get it back one way or another. Only Cristine could give him that, no one else. He was sure of that at least. The why was still murky, because it wasn't  just because of their teamwork. Troy didn't say anything for a long time and didn't want to argue anymore; not when he himself wasn't sure what all of this really meant to him. These contradicting feelings and the fact that he couldn't let them go. Couldn't understand him. Troy wanted to fix their friendship so badly and knowing Cristine still rejected him on certain aspects just didn't sit well. "I want us to be good again. You said you had my back," reiterated Troy, a little accusatory, his eyes searching hers with honest confusion. Troy never felt so thrown off balance, but so fixated, as when he'd explored his relationship with Cristine. The engrossment in him a contradictory whirlwind of foreign emotions. She complemented his personal drive, motivations and even saw through his obsessions and obscured interest some would label as madness. 

Cristine felt her scalp tingle, neck and facial muscles pulled tight. This thing with Troy was perverse and disconcerting. The conflicting feelings of helplessness and being cornered by him time and time again annoying her greatly. Everything Troy said made her angry and if it was before she wouldn't care. Cristine would stay as far away from him as possible, watch it all crash and burn, and escape with her family. But she did care. They became friends. At least, that's what she liked to believe until Troy smashed that bond to pieces like some cheap vase within days. Cristine felt betrayed and sick. She should be used to people disappointing and hurting her, but this stung more than usual and Cristine understood why that was and didn't like it one bit. It started to make more sense as time passed. She cared about Troy and it wasn't the same care she had for Blake and Jake. It ran much deeper and she hated feeling like this. Hated that she was now so aware if it through this mess by this maniac. What was wrong with her?

"Was that a lie?" Troy asked genuinely.

"No," Cristine felt something tickle at the base of her throat and her eyes stung. "But I'm not going to pretend that what you did is okay or was a necessity. That you had to make some hard call, because my father protected you. It'll never be okay Troy. Do you get that?" Cristine bit her lower lip, glaring into the distance. She didn't want to argue with Troy; not when emotions ran high and the thread of reason thinned and was interwoven with… whatever this situation was. Ultimately, Troy stepped back, putting some distance between them. It wasn't enough for Cristine to leave, but she was able to look at him and she did. Cristine raised her head. By the look of it, Troy wasn't a hundred percent sure if he wanted to let her go even with her affirmation that she would still help on her terms. The air was too ambiguous to categorize Troy's behavior as his sick and twisted interest to satisfy his amusement or just his usual self entitlement. Whatever the motivation, it was highly obsessive.

"But you still haven't told anyone else or cut me off." Troy remarked, pointing out the contradiction in her reasoning. She could easily focus on doing just do the latter, but she didn't. "Why?"

Cristine sneered, "why does it matter?" Her tense jaw rotated, the animosity apparent but half layered by a slither of rationality.

Troy narrowed his gaze. "Because you could deal with us if you wanted to. Madison and me. Make us pay for what we did. No one would suspect a thing. We would just be more causalities in a war and part of someone's sob story. I'd be out of your hair too and I wouldn't really blame you. People wanted me dead for less, even you at one point." His lips parted when her fierce glare was directed elsewhere and Troy exhaled softly before slowly retracting his other hand. He half expected Cristine to push him or even go as far as to draw her knife. Troy wouldn't mind if Cristine decided to kill him. It would be his win whether she did or didn't. In both scenarios he would serve as part of her memory. A reminder. In a way that Mike was for him. But Cristine wasn't going to kill him because she saw the bigger picture. Because, in the end, just like him, everything Cristine did was in service to this place. No matter all the moral dilemmas she clung to. "But I know that's not who you are. You know this can't fail and for it to succeed, you need me. Just like I need you to handle the contingencies here." Misty eyes darted back up, pure frustration and simmering rage all aimed at him. "That's how this works. How we work. And you're not going to let sentiment get in the way of it when it means all of us and our families get to live."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... Cristine kind of admitted that she cares about Troy and hates it because of obvious reasons. I've been maneuvering around especially Troy's feeling a lot, so I wanted to balance it out with this chapter. Cristine is more emotionally grown and aware of herself as an individual on that spectrum and Troy is well... Troy. He does have this obsessive streak/care that he frames as a loyalty/friendship he wants to mend and protect it no matter what (que his psyopathic reasoning) so I think it's normal that he's not aware that he likes Cristine in that way... yet. I won't spoil too much, but there will definitely be more satisfying and direct clues and actions regarding their relationship that is fitting to their characters. 
> 
> And as you've noticed I have started to deviate from the plot, but I still want to keep some very important storylines because of the impact they had on the characters. I'm still writing down some of my ideas and hope I can update tomorrow too!
> 
> I love to read you guy's thoughts, feelings, criticism, feedback and overall opinions about not only this chapter, but my story!


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't have time to post my chapter, but here ya'll go!  
Also I made it to 1567 hits for Flesh and Bone, so happy!

That same day, all able-bodied Survivalists worked on barricades and strengthening the fences. The work went surprisingly efficient and most were in their element fixing what could still be fixed and salvaged. Cristine put Alicia in charge of the infirmary with Hailey at her side her while she decided to help with the mending of the fences at the front. She needed to breathe and organize her thoughts with other work and helping with the barrier of the enclosed piece of acreages was perfect. Though Cristine had learned of the Ranch life in the Apocalypse it was one of the best places to be right now. Dressed in her fresh laundered outdoor garb and baseball cap, she strode to the next area to fix. She and a few were in charge of the fences. They had lumber to strengthen the weak spots. At the sound of a heavy vehicle drawing close she looked up with a deep frown from concentrating on her work. One of the trucks delivered more wood for the barbed fences and Cristine got up to help unload the planks. As the day progressed, the weather remained the same. Cristine worked until her skin took on a glossy shine on her complexion that bronzed over time under the sun. As she kept fastening the barbed wires together, her mind had considerably cleared. 

"I see you're making progress." Cristine tensed in spite of herself, but she turned and with his hands on his hips saw her father. She had the feeling that she hadn't seen him in ages, but the pulling sensation on her face was a stark reminder that he was always close. Keeping herself occupied was the best remedy to not think about him as much. 

"We're managing. There's still a lot of work and we have little time," Cristine said and grabbed some lumber and used it as an extra support beam for a frail looking wood stuck in the ground with barbed wire around it. When she dragged the heavy wood with her, her father probably saw it as a chance to help. Cristine didn't protest or acknowledge his aid, she just let him do whatever he thought would make him feel better. She smelled the liquor on his clothing, frowned deeply and ground her teeth together. Another reason why she didn't want to be around her father as much; he'd always be a drunk. He'd say his empty words and this time she wouldn't cling to his excuses to do better and have that stupid hope. 

"I thought your plan through and it's solid. Smart. When Walker understands what's happening, he'll surrender." James held the wood with both hands while Cristine began the process of fastening the wood as one with some nails. He avoided looking at Cristine, ashamed of witnessing his outburst in the flesh. At least Cristine didn't fully reject him or shied away from his presence, as tense as she appeared in his vicinity. "I thought, uh… you and I should talk after last time."

"…"

James saw his daughter's silence as a sign to continue and he scratched his throat and talked, voice soft and on the edge of wavering, "lately, I've been having strange thoughts. Of ghosts and sins that wander in limbo and how they're much worse than the dead and it catches up on you. Like walking in a circle and you think you've dealt with them."

Cristine didn't once glance at her father and twisted a fresh roll of barbed wire around the wood. Her father didn't make any sense and she blamed his babbling on the alcohol. Her lips twisted together and the shooting sensation of her face made the corner of her eye tear up. "I'll always love you daddy, but like you said, you won't change; sober or drunk. It's who you are… who you've always been." Cristine her tune was cold and without looking at her father shared her piece. Hard lines etched into her forehead and she really had to bite her tongue to keep the stinging words to a minimum and say anything hurtful back. "So if you won't change that means I'll have to. For me. I meant what I said that night and you can be angry at me for it… but don't ever put your hands on me like that again." 

-

It was a few hours in and the fences were considerably strengthened. The vulnerable and important spots fixed first. They couldn't finish everything, but it would have to do. Cristine felt her strained back snap, crackle and pop when she rose to her feet and stretched the muscles. "Good job everyone." Cristine tugged at the double wired barbs with his gloved hand and the extra wood that kept the fence posts up. "We head back to the shooting range to help the others prep before they go out tonight." With the setting sun came a sky of an orangey fire. It was the budding scene for the clear night with stars. 

With each stride to shooting range, the smell of blood and viscera intensified. The nascent smell stroked one's nose, promising a hideous sight, but it was surprisingly buckets and containers littered with the excretion of the dead. Glancing around, eyes taking in the blood slicked machetes', knives, arrow tips, and other arsenal of pointed weapons, Cristine wrinkled her nose before her sight set on Troy squatted down while giving his orders. "Make sure you coat your weapons in good. Fill some of those buckets over there and load them in the trucks. We'll need those later. Push your weapons in nice and deep." Twisting his machete back and forth after making sure he drowned the steel deep through the vile, vomit inducing plasma of bacteria and other collections of diseases worse than one could imagine Troy rose. He faced the men and women who would join him tonight. It wasn't much, but it was the best he had at the moment and would have to make do. 

"I want everyone to listen up! Our mission tonight is about the element of surprise. We won't be going out guns blazing if we don't have to, but if you are forced to use your gun don't aim for the head, let them turn. Use the coated arrow tips for long range if you can. When you are engaging at close range go for flesh wounds, leave 'em alive and don't kill; let them turn. If you're injured and it's your last stand, take out as many as possible until the end like a real soldier. But don't kill. Go out knowing you did kill them in the end by giving everyone back here a chance." Once Troy was sure he'd conveyed the plan and his orders to his team he continued, "next, we unleash infected on the reservation to do some of the work for us. The dead are meant to distract and overwhelm, but given that they're heavily armed, we'll have to be smart. We use the distraction to hit where it's not lethal and let them turn. We need to give them the idea that we're desperate and it's our last stand… after we've caused enough damage we retreat, go home and wait." The moment Troy finished they resumed preparations. Whilst scrutinizing everything his gaze landed on his partner in crime. Looking around at the busy bodies, Troy walked towards Cristine and joined her in her brief stride away from the others. 

"We barricaded as much as we could. We're reusing parts of your old plan and installed a few booby traps." Cristine her cap shaded the front of her face while staring at nothing in particular. Her voice was calm and mellowed out. Her expression remained serious face. "The rest is up to you guys." Cristine was oddly calm about everything and perhaps that was due to the influence of Troy's current mood. When it came to doing what he was good at and preparing for battles and the coming violence, Troy set a model example of a soldier ready for his final battle. He always said it was his purpose in life. Cristine had never met someone who was so at ease and in his element as Troy. He made it all sound so easy and she could only imagine the exhilaration in his veins. People were going to die, maybe he would too. Cristine rubbed her wrists with her fingers at the idea. A heavy sigh betrayed her anxiety. All the details were mapped out and it was a good plan, but plans weren't set in stone. Plans could go wrong. They usually did. Cristine bit the inside of her cheek as she tried not to think with pessimism. She turned her head to look at the person who took one of the biggest risks and asked, "you ready?"

Troy glanced back and caught signs of open concern on her face. It momentarily surprised him, but he quickly relaxed. Complications and feelings were out in the open and he had a hard time to categorize it. Wetting his lips, Troy moved his wide shoulders up, clutching the front of his sleeveless tactical vest. "Yeah. You can say I've been ready my whole life. It kind of feels like a do-over." Troy referred to the plans he concocted only for Jake's diplomacy to ruin it prematurely. "The types like Walker will always be around even if we won the first time. There will be many more who will try to take this from us. It's my duty to protect it. Even if I die in the process."

Cristine's nose moved when sniffing and palmed her stiff neck. Most were on edge and while she was convinced it would be worth it all in the end, she was still anxious. Troy was right and Cristine forced herself to think past the days her betrayal-fueled anger outweighed worry and she scraped her boots over the dirt. "I rather no one dies, but that's wishful thinking." There was a dark haze when looking into bright blue eyes. Most of his attention gauging the true meaning behind her words. "Any day could be your last. You go out and risk your life. Nowadays, even breathing feels like a risk and oftentimes you don't really have a choice. You can only choose what you risk your life for. That's why I need you to do me a favor Troy." Cristine hesitated even making this request. It was selfish, but after acknowledging to herself that she did, in fact, care about Troy. A different sort of care that wasn't platonic, Cristine decided it couldn't do harm to ask him this. It was a fifty-fifty chance survival rate.

Troy arched his brow, eyes of obsidian hard with a severity that made him bob his head down at the woman. Cristine sounded tense, but she wouldn't ask him a request if it wasn't serious. At least, she set aside her issues with him to ask favors. Troy watched Cristine's eyes soften and the rest of her face went taut, her words soft and vulnerable, but thoughtful and said with purpose, "I know you're not afraid of death and would happily give your life for this place, but I don't want you to die. I need you to come back alive." A bout of surprise flicker past Troy's features, a bit taken aback. Her sudden demand messing with him for a beat. For a miniscule second - a wave of complications surged through Troy. The end of his fingertips twitched. Troy's focused and his militant air faltered and he got really quiet. The proof of honesty he detected past Cristine's exterior confusing him more. Again, the invisible weight of her dark stare pulled at his eyes and finding his voice he asked her in a low baritone.

"Why?"

Cristine was confounded by his question, but it was a fair one. Her heart beat all the way to her throat and she watched the open curiosity of blue fade into light puzzlement, darting to and fro her gaze. Blinking, Cristine wet her lips and put on a complicated look, one that silently screamed self-doubt, but dissipated the more neither's eyes strayed from the other. "Because I can't say for sure things will completely go back to normal and I'll always hate what you did, but I-" Cristine organized her thoughts and her words as best as she could. "I don't hate you… I hate some of the things you do, but I do care. Like how you care about our friendship. And I'm open to fix it too, but it takes two people for that, preferably alive."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	58. - Troy -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're entering the mind of our crazy boy together with some other goodness that will make you guys smile! It sure made me smile and I still am. Also, this is a longer chapter because the last one was really short. Yes, I did that to tease ya'll ;)

Silence stalked the perimeter of Black Hat Reservation.

Laying flat on his stomach, Troy peered through his night binoculars and adjusted the magnifications while scanning the heavily armed patrols on guard duty. Their system was tight, but they'd marked the blind spots beforehand and he and his men were able to thread as close as possible with their trucks. But Troy was still prepared for the worst case scenario, going out guns blazing. Every little thing was so tenuous that any change or sound might tip this ambush in the wrong direction. The hostility between his family and the Nation was something as old, if not even older than him. Lowering his binocular, Troy crawled back over the curve of the high, slanted grass hill able to shield them. His narrowed eyes flicked to the restless carcasses secured by rope near their necks and torso's. Burlap sacks covered their heads and while their snarls were more or less subdued, the sound was still grating to the ears. _"They influence each other's behavior."_ He thought back to the theory Cristine explained him and Troy still couldn't help his fascination with the wasted. These mindless corpses were going to save their people all thanks to Cristine's ingenuity.

"Their patrol's tight, but they also seem to be preparing to leave. Like Madison said, Walker is going to strike while the iron's hot and we're recovering," Troy looked his eyes in the eye one by one, unsure if these same faces would make or if this was their last stand, his included. "You all have your orders. Where you need to be and where we'll rendezvous after the signal of retreat. Cooper is in charge of the archers and will stay near the hill. The rest of you are with me, where we release the dead on their camp and hide in the grass in pairs of two. The dead will draw them out and once they're close enough you go for the non-lethal injuries and knock them out if you have to, but don't kill if it isn't necessary, this is about the element of surprise. But defend yourself if you have to, just don't go for the head." After summarizing the plan Troy's voice sharpened, "now not everyone's going to make it, but we fight until the end to keep our family and friends, our _home_ safe, or they will be slaughtered, all of them. The only thing that can save them and all they have is us right now. Draw strength that we'll save them and they have one more day to live. Now, everyone to their positions." Troy looked at Cooper, who nodded in understanding and silently signaled at his squad of marksmen to follow his trail to the better side of the hill where they had full view of their targets.

For the last thirty hours, Troy and his squadron had been awake in full camo, prepping for tonight's attack. The most arduous task was securing the dead. Troy was used to the harsh, barren conditions of the wasteland. The lack of his was something he was used to and exhaustion didn't deter him as much. There was no place for sleep, or hesitation or doubts or anything not part of this mission. The militant fighter needed to stay sharp and on guard at all times. Troy lifted his arm and slid down the sleeve of his night camo and scanned his watch, counting the time it took for Coop to leave. They were going to cut down and drop the dead from this hill and unleash them on Walker's camp in one minute.

Fifteen seconds passed and watching the time tick by, Troy thought back to the few hours before leaving the Ranch, and he couldn't help but harshly gnash at his lips. For some reason his heart slowly began to pound harder and harder in his chest and he couldn't distinguish it as thrill for the impending battle to come or simply wanting to return to get clarity.

_~_

_Troy fastened the supplies in the back of the truck. The bustling of the others a menial distraction to the fact that they were going to Black Hat Reservation such a small group in such a short time again. To think this all started with Walker shooting down their helicopter when they returned home. It was insane that barely a week and a half had passed since then. It felt as if time moved so much slower, but according to his they were already sixty-five days in the Apocalypse. Troy couldn't help but smile that bizarre smirk of his at the idea that the concept and feeling of time could betray one's body so much. _

_"You're creeping the others out." Troy's smile didn't falter when he heard Cristine's chastising tone and loaded the last bucket in the truck. Despite everything, the horrors, and death, Troy was in a very good mood, not even Cristine jabs annoyed him. _

_"I know you're worried about me deep down doc', no need to mask it with insults." Troy's remark was a playful jab after he clicked the cords around the supplies and weapons they would need. In the meantime Cristine up and down as if had grown a second head and saw her mood only worsen at his lack of tact. "You _ ** _care_ ** _ and need me back alive, right?" Troy's smug remarks were jab of banter at Cristine's forbidding response and Troy shook his head when she kissed the back of her teeth, a tick that displayed her irritation with him. Troy's non-verbal counter in the form of his infuriating smirk elicited Cristine's trademark scowl._

_"I see your ego is back at it's peak again." Hand on her hips and chin raised, her eyes contracted and the muscles around the outer area visibly tightened. Troy tilted his head to the side and leaned the side of his body against the back of the truck and his eyes swiftly looked her up and down. _

_"I don't know what the future will bring. It's not like I won't try my best, but if it is my fate that tonight is my last day walking… so be it. This was always how my life was planned Cristine. I know I won't grow old and die in my sleep with satisfied smile on my face." As his words registered, Troy saw how Cristine's expression darkened and pinched the bridge of her nose and heard her mumble something among the lines of, "you've got to be kidding me," looked at their surroundings, noting most were too occupied to care about them, and surprised Troy by stepping closer and asked in soft, but even tune, "do you know _ ** _why_ ** _ I asked you to come back alive?"_

_Troy licked his lower lip and mellowed down his laid-back attitude. His answer the same as always. He had betrayed Cristine in a sense by lying and breaking her trust. "So we can fix our friendship to what it was before," he answered in the simplest way possible._

_Cristine her breathing turned slightly uneven, thoughts filtering and deciding on how to deliver the right response. This wasn't _ ** _just_ ** _ about their friendship. It was about her feelings, as messed up as they were, and the way Troy was obsessively trying to make things right in ways that were normal and comfortable for him, but agitating to her; through lies and manipulation. He went that far to keep what they had as friends intact. __In a perfect world, Cristine wanted Troy to break those obsessive habits, because it wasn't friends did and it definitely wasn't how she wanted to give anything more a chance. But wasn't a perfect world and she'd aim for what she knew what she earned, even if she didn't feel the way she did about Troy. __"That will be the starting point. This-" Cristine pointed her finger between their bodies and explained it with as much clarity as she could, "_ ** _we_ ** _ aren't going to return to how it was before."_

_Seeing Troy struggle to form a response, let alone register her words, he said, voice pure confusion, "but I thought you said-" His brain coiled over the fact that he hadn't seen this coming from a mile away. It completely caught Troy off-guard and left him flabbergasted and stabbed in the back._

_~_

Troy's darkened eyes dilated the moment he recalled the conversation and the sound of his beeping watch brought him back to reality at the one minute mark. Crouched with the lined up dead at the edge of the hill, his nerves curled into a single ball of icy focus, despite the energy of his soldiers and the infected pushing him to act. Troy gestured at his soldiers to follow his lead. He harshly tugged at the fresh ropes, agitating the blinded dead even more, their snarl and hissing getting worse and loud enough that the sound would echo into the night. Unsheathing his machete from his waist, Troy tugged the burlap bag from the first dead it's head, cut the binds and kicked it in the back of it's legs and watched it roll down the hill like a human bowling man. He did the same for the next three infected and the others followed his lead. They managed to transport more than a dozen infected to unleash them on the Nation's camp without putting themselves at risk.

Glancing over his shoulders, Troy flexed his hand and with a few simple hand signals and everyone silently spread in pairs. The distant sound of yelling and gunshots was the cue to jolt into action and hide between the grass. When he raised his head to peek over the edge of the tilting hill, he spotted the ant-like figures and the dimmed lights of the Nation's camp. The gunshots weren't as vibrant, which meant they were going to take out the dead by hand and scout further out their perimeter for more. Troy maintained the same space as before, his partner hot on his heels, and the two made it to a pretty decent spot behind one of the boulders in under half a minute. His breathing steady, Troy pressed his hand on his partner's chest to keep still and unsheathed his slicked machete coated in blood of the infected. Someone drew close. Troy lowered his legs slowly and clenched the hilt of his weapon when a flashlight began to scan the area next to them.

"Be alert for more infected. We don't want to draw more with our guns," he heard one of the men order. As the person got closer, the moment Troy caught the outline of a limb, he yanked the metal ahead of him. The hunk of steel sunk into flesh and the unsuspecting soldier cried in surprised pain. Troy slammed the but of his machete into his temple, knocking him out cold and another break in the action heightened his senses.

"There's someone- gsh" Troy smirked in spite of himself and burst into action from his hiding spot. One of his snipers probably had a clear shot from their position and Troy tackled the unsuspecting man on the dirt. It was a struggle, but he managed to punch the lights out with a crushing blow to his jaw. This was going to be one of the most draining night, but as he looked at the environment he noted that Walker's men were getting picked apart whether by the dead or his own fighters.

Bullets bounced at his feet and Troy jumped back into his hiding spot. The pants coming from his mouth were deep and Troy licked his walky-talky, "release the next batch of dead where their families are located. We need to spread their fighters thin." The radio crackles and the static voice replied, "copy that boss. Next wave coming in. One minute left to find a new hideout or you'll be flanked by the infected and armed hostiles." The adrenaline thrill left Troy a bit giddy, but it also pushed him back into focus. Checking his riffle and magazine clips, Troy pressed his back against the rock and checked his watch and watched the numbers moved, waiting as half a minute passed. Patience was key and sticking to the plan was the only way they'd win. It was the only way he'd return back home to get the clarification he needed to put what Cristine told him before he left into perspective.

_~_

_"That will be the starting point. This-" Cristine pointed her finger between their bodies and explained it with as much clarity as she could, "_**_we_ ** _ aren't going to return to how it was before." _

_Seeing Troy struggle to form a response, let alone register her words, he said, voice pure confusion, "but I thought you said-" His brain coiled over the fact that he hadn't seen this coming from a mile away. It completely caught Troy off-guard and left him flabbergasted and stabbed in the back._

_Cristine her voice pushed through the confines of his thoughts, her clarification stilling him, "I know what I said, but seeing jumping with joy t_o_ die for the cause made me rethink what I really want out of our friendship. _ _Especially when the stakes are this high and the future uncertain. _ _I _ _don't want it to be too late." Cristine lost her mother before she could even understand the world. She lost her mentor. Colleagues and friends. She lost her father in a sense too and hadn't truly remedied the past with her broken family. Cristine lost people when there was an inkling of hope and she wanted to at least _ ** _feel _ ** _she could holding onto those small things. This might be selfish, but she didn't care and would lay her feelings out in the open. There were worse things to deal with than rejection._

_"Too late for what?" Seeing Troy look at her with guarded confusion and suspicion blossomed a weak smile on her face._

_"Too late to tell you that I care about you… as more than a friend and I want to see where it goes when we fix things between us. I _ ** _want_ ** _ what I say to matter to you too. I hope what I say matters enough that you'll come back." _ _Like the beginning of a sequence of ripples starting from a pebble being throw into water, that was how the implication of Cristine's confession slammed into Troy's psyche. She watched his response unfold, dark irises peering up searching for a positive sign._ _ She felt her face warm up from the piercing blue stare and Cristine waited until he said something in response to her confession. The twist of his brows deepened and his eyes narrowed. She saw his thoughts race like a burst of firework. Troy obviously didn't expected this. Hadn't expected Cristine to say something so illogical in the spur of the moment given that there was already so much going on. _

_Cristine eventually reached out and squeezed the side of his arm to jostle him from withdrawing into his mind. The militant and manipulative Troy wasn't looking at her. His eyes stretched and his mouth was slack, but the words were stuck in his throat, leaving him speechless and confused and uncertain of the proper way to reply._ _ Troy's uniform was of a sturdy material, but for some reason he felt the warmth of Cristine's hand through the fabric and he becoming more aware of the tingling feel. Conscious of the way the heat twisted inside his gut and starting from there it crept up the rest of his skin like a rash. It was the same as in the cave as they hid from the dead, but now Cristine simply said that she… she liked him. _

_She liked him._

_Cristine didn't want to pressure Troy more than she had. A_ _lternating her stare between his eyes, mouth, and the rest of his face she said, "we won't talk about it now for obvious reason. But we will and everything else when you get back." Cristine gave Troy a final look, hoping he'd understand that she was being pushy because she wanted him to care enough about her request that it was important to her. This was definitely his call as much as it was hers. And while she didn't want it to be, rejection could be a possibility. Cristine just wanted to make her intentions clear. The next step was for Troy to tell her what he wanted out of all of this. So they could build and understand the already shifting dynamics in their relationship, whether platonic or romantic. They both needed to thread the waters of opening up on a different emotional level. A level that went beyond their natural trust when it came to survival and fighting. It was more than that now._

~

Troy sniped a few of Walker's men in their limps, anything that kept them alive. The occasional one, he had no choice but to put down, all whilst avoiding a headshot. Troy sprinted to his next location, just in time he and his pair escaped the assault of the dead heading to their next meal. "Alright, keep your eyes peeled, we're going out." The two caught their breath at the next rendezvous point and Troy was too focused on hostilities to notice that his partner's breathing was unnaturally heavy.

"Troy. I'm hit."

"What?!" Troy twisted around and saw the slightly older man, probably Jake's age, press his hand into his gut. A thick, liquid poured between his fingers and Troy saw it already stain the dirt in a trail. Pushing down the twitch on his face, he crouched down to examine the wound. His face remained stone cold, assessing the next move. He would have no one to watch his back and he needed to pick one more spot before shooting the flare for the others to retreat. Troy didn't have time to treat or carry him with him. There was too much at stake and-

"Just go. I knew what I signed up for." Blue eyes flicked up at the feverish looking man who seemed at peace with his fate. "I'll take care of myself."

"Right," Troy nodded and remembered that this was one of the new recruits. "You're name's Cole right?"

"Yeah. Surprised you remembered."

"Who wouldn't You're one of the first who killed an infected when you arrived." Troy's eyes flicked in the direction of the ruddy blonde clumsily grabbing for his handgun in his holster. "You impressed a lot of people." Troy helped the man with his gun and sighed, "you uh- you got someone left back at the Ranch? Someone I can relay your last words to?"

Cole bared his blood-stained teeth, wincing in pain from trying to raise his arm. "I came with my ma and my little brother… but they didn't make it through the anthrax attack. My girl made it… just tell her.. Tell her it's… I don't blame her for waiting…" Cole's breath turned heavy and grasping his gun he did his best to raise his arm, only to cry out in pain and his good arm dropped back down the dirt. "Shit! Can't even kill myself in decency." Troy opened his tactical vest and his gaze chilled more and Cole chuckled, "that bad huh, Otto?"

"The bullet went through muscle and tissue. It's why you can't lift your arm."

It was quiet for a bit until Cole asked, "can you do put me down? I want to at least die decently."

Troy nodded and accepted the gun before wiping it a bit from his blood. When he held the cool steel in his hand, Troy rose, took a few steps back, and pointed the end of the barrel at Cole. Loosening the safety, Troy aimed for the man's head and squeezed the trigger, however at the last moment Troy changed trajectory and shot point blank for Cole's chest. Troy watched Cole's body jerk from the impact of the gunshot to his heart before his lifeless body slumped down. Silently, he clipped Cole's handgun in the back of his pants. After, Troy dropped to his knees again and began to strip his former partner of his other weapons and clasped them around his body. It added more weight, but he was going to fight for two at this point. "You fought well Cole, but I really _need_ to get out of this alive and I can't be picky at this point." Troy explained as if he had to justify his action just now. Besides, Cole was dead weight the moment he got hit. Troy just made sure Cole's death wasn't a waste. No one would know… well he _would have _tell Cristine, but he wasn't worried about it as much given that someone would put Cole down one eventually. He was just using what he got, pushed into a corner, to his advantage. "You see, fresh bodies are stronger and have more vigor in them compared to the ones we collected. You'll serve as the perfect distraction at this checkpoint and hopefully take down one or two since we're close at their living quarters. The helpless ones, like your mom and your brother. See it as retribution for what they did to our vulnerable ones." Troy pushed Cole's slouched head back and peered into the cold, hollow black of his stretched pupils before looking at his watch. Sighing, he grabbed the end of his feet and began to drag Cole to a more secluded area, luckily without any guards in sight.

Crouching back down, Troy checked his weapons and muttered under his breath, fully immersed with talking about one of the things he would probably never tire of. A genuine smile even arched his lips. "Also, when I still had my many scientific discussions with our doc' she said something else could affect the speed how long it takes one to turn. She shared something really interesting that I, unfortunately, couldn't test at the depot; separating subjects according to their state of mind. Cristine theorized that aggressive or adrenaline high people turn faster than scared and meek people. It had something to do with them having more fight in them. With that instead of fifty-three minutes, my guess is that you'll reanimate in twenty-five minutes tops and lucky for me that's when I need to fire the flare for retreat." Troy sighed and scratched the back of his head, "you fought well Cole and I'll pass your last words to your girlfriend when I get back home." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially, I wasn't going to write a Troy centric chapter, but when I read your comments it made more sense to do it and strangely, I really like how it came out! Especially with the confession and how Troy's fighting with that in mind as well! Also, that ending was messed up, if I do say so myself, but is it out of character for Troy? Not at all! 
> 
> Also, does this mean half the ship sailed?! I have no idea, but I think in a way it has?
> 
> Share your thoughts!


	59. - Cristine -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy guys!

* * *

Sleep didn't come easy. Laying on her side, arm curled around her flat stomach while the other was propped underneath her pillow, Cristine stared at her door. The occasional flicker of light near her window dancing from the lights of the few patrol guards passing. The tight feeling inside her chest left her breath heavy and stuffy, which was weird as she meticulously cleaned her cabin to keep her mind from straying to thoughts she rather not entertain. With those omnious thoughts Cristine remembered the surprising conversation she had with Troy right before he left. 

Her confession.

"What the hell is wrong with me?" Liking someone shouldn't be this. Not this twisted, complicated, and wrong. Roiled in darkness leaving Cristine searching for oxygen while also feeling liberated when she didn't have to worry about being judged. Maybe it was because she never needed to pretend with Troy. Not even at the very start. Maybe she confused liking Troy with feelings of justification and comfort for the things she'd done. She felt empowered and at ease at the way he shrugged her actions off when others silently judged. Cristine never doubted Troy's support when it was time to choose survival over morality. Hell, the two of them bonded more during violent moments than peaceful ones and that frightened her. Troy made it alright for her to accept the violence and admit it was part of her. The violence kept their families alive and the Ranch safe. But Cristine felt like a hypocrite deep down. Troy had killed their own and it dawned that she wasn't different from her father. Just more the same. She still kept all their dark secrets hidden, with good reason, whined about it, but still returned to the ones that would be prepared to do what was necessary. The things she did and would without a doubt keep doing, Troy understood it... he even respected her for it, unlike her father. 

He understood her. 

That's why she still cared about his fate. When it counted the most, despite all Troy did and had done, when it came to surviving, Cristine wanted- needed him at her side. She confessed because she was irritated with how easily Troy spoke about sacrificing his life. As if that was the noble end goal and nothing else mattered but his mission. Cristine didn't know why hearing Troy talk so carelessly made her intensely feel that particular way, but it did. Kissing the inside of her teeth and unable to tamper her nerves, Cristine sat upright in her bed. It shifted from her weight and she planted her feet on the wooden floor, curling her toes. Her curls brushed past her shoulders and a hand combed the messy locks to one side before palming her exposed nape. Her body was active for almost two days, but there was still so much energy she wanted to release. She wasn't going to fall asleep. Twisting her neck back and forth and side to side to deal with the nick, Cristine slid her hand under her pillow and grabbed her knife. The leather felt rough on her hand and Cristine stared at the casing Troy had given to her some time ago. It was the first time she willingly went to him for a favor for herself and they cleared the dead out that night. He'd given it to her after they were done. Tracing her fingertips over the engravings designed with a craftsmanship that was both unique and rare, a faint smile graced her face. Her smile withered and a deep sigh escaped her lips.

  
-

"Can't sleep?" Cristine tensed and looked over her shoulder. Her face automatically fell into a relaxed and controlled state. Her emotions were hard to detect, but her eyes narrowed when Madison stepped next to her at the gate. The older woman glanced at the rifle Cristine's held whilst guarding the gate. "Neither can I." Madison looked back at the dark one way road leading to the Ranch. 

"Alicia and Hailey kicked me out of my infirmary to get some rest. I'm not allowed back in until it's dawn." Cristine licked her lower lip. "It's a wonder anyone can rest with all that's going on." 

"It's a good plan Cristine..." Madison half surprised her with the comment and Cristine rubbed the cold steel with her fingertips. "Only thing we can do now is wait for them to return." 

"Yeah." Cristine agreed with a distracted nod and did a chewing motion with her mouth, thinking and wondering. "But in my experience plans usually also get messed up and the situation turns for the worst." 

"One step at a time," Madison added and in her own way tried to relief the young medic of her emotional burdens. "It's the best we got."

"How do you do that? Not care?" Cristine slightly lowered her gun and twisted her head, staring right back at the stern faced Madison. She always had that type of expression and barely laughed, not even with her children as far as she could tell. Madison was the epitome of a mother bear that would break and destroy any threat to her family like it was nothing. Their goals aligned, but Cristine still trusted her gut to keep the woman as far away from her and her family as possible. No matter how good a bond she had with Alicia or liked her and Nick, Madison still left Cristine on guard. She also didn't hide her opinions around the woman because she was as cold as stone. 

"I care, but my children matter more. I don't have the luxury of thinking about feelings. I think you know why. Like you said last time, we need people like Troy, your father.... like you and me. Even if you hate what we do. I don't like it either, but it's the world we live in." Madison's replies were cool and sounded so clinical. "It's necessary. We need strong people who can make calls like these and come up with plans like yours. We don't even need to be friends for that either. Just that we live and that our families do too." 

"Do Nick and Alicia know about the things you've done?" The sharp darkened blue eyes narrowed, but Cristine couldn't decipher the reaction. 

"They've even seen some. They don't know about this. But they're my children and I think they suspect it. Like you did with your father. Are you going to tell them?" 

"No." Cristine didn't care about the Clark's internal issues. She had her own family issues to worry about. "It's not my business or my place. It's just another secret I'll have to carry." Madison glanced at Cristine from the corner of her eye. So many burdens when most weren't even her fault. Why did she guilt herself in carrying the sins and deeds of others? Because her father was involved in most of them? She'd encounter some teens during her work as a guidance counselor. While she wasn't a licensed psychologist or had the credentials to diagnose a person, Madison noticed streaks of cognitive dissonance and codependency within Cristine from the type of bonds she kept. Coming from a neglecting and abusive household such effects weren't uncommon. Madison had seen her fair share of teenagers and such unhealthy habits were hard to overcome, especially involving people one cared about. Madison could attest to that when seeing the young woman around her father and Troy. It was worse in the apocalyps with all the extra emotional baggage and coming to terms with the horrors of the dead, the living, and oneself. "It's not the burdens that destroy, it's how you carry them. The difference between you and me Cristine is that you manage to do good. I can't cry about many of the people lost on the Ranch because I didn't know them. I'm sorry we lost so many, but I'm glad none were my family." Cristine her lip twitched and swallowed the budding ball in her chest to get angry by those words. Her father told her the exact same thing, but hearing it so offhandedly was still infuriating. "I'm grateful you and James are around to keep us safe... even Troy for the way he's willing to fight and protect us." 

Cristine scoffed. "Just because I'm a medic and help others doesn't mean it washes away the blood on my hands or absolves me of the things I've done. I hate feeling like this and I'm sick knowing what I know and feeling what I feel deep down in spite of it..." Cristine trailed off and clinched her jaw. It wasn't just her relationship with her father, it was her feelings for Troy. She shouldn't have confessed to him like that. Selfishly coaxing him to have Troy promise to return. For what? What was the end goal? To be together with him? She wasn't even sure if her own feelings were even genuine or that Troy really cared about her that way. A sigh later, Cristine admitted to Madison, "I think I would probably do the same things you and my father do to keep the peace. I just want it to be over. I want for it to stop and I know that's not how things work anymore. Lately I... care less about the people lost and more about the ones still alive and how to keep it that way." Cristine sniffed and her voice lowered an octave, fingers tapping the cold rifle, she admitted, "I don't know what's wrong with me." It was the first time Cristine opened up like this and it was to Madison of all people. The woman she openly distrusted and disliked for her selferving nature. Madison wouldn't bat an eye if she had to sacrifice others for her children's safety, her and her own family included. But here she was laying her problems and burdens bare to Madison Clark. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, her conflicting feelings or their unsure future. Cristine was exhausted having to live in such emotional conflict with herself.

"It's not wrong to love your father even with the things he's done." It was hard to see in the dark, but the stark gaze felt heavy on Cristine's face, the place where the healing bruises laid bare on her flesh. "But you don't have to accept or forgive the things he has done either. Don't ever compromise on keeping you and your sister safe. I never did with my old man and my mother." 

"What do you-"

Before Cristine could ask what Madison meant by that, the humming sounds of vehicles grabbed their attention. Yellow lamps flicker in the distance and Cristine raised the binoculars to get a good look. She felt Madison shift anxiously at her side, but Cristine managed to sway those feelings and said, "they're back. Open the gates."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there's still a lot of angst and confusion with Cristine when it comes to her overall feelings for Troy. I hope this chapter has given you guys a better idea what she feels and is struggling with. My baby has suffered and a big part of that is the relationship she has in the past with her father and this weird thing with Troy as well. So while this was a confession, it was also her wondering if what she feels is real and genuine or if it just isn't her feeling at ease around Troy for her actions. 
> 
> Also, what did you think of Madison's assessment and thoughts? I tried to add an outsider's perspective and given Madison her previous occupation she would see signals for Cristine's behavior and inner conflict. Also, Madison will be Madison and we know how she is/can be!
> 
> Hope to read your thoughts and yes, this is a short chapter, but hope to make it up soon!


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter is the longest one until now!

The party returned in the middle of the night. The rush of adrenaline still hung in the air as Troy and the others parked their vehicles. Some were injured, but most were fine. James ordered for a debrief. Even those who weren't on the mission looked flushed and packed with vigor over the success. Jeremiah was nowhere to be seen still, but James was more willing to take this temporarily leadership role upon himself. The Survivalist were libertarians and usually didn't like to be told what to do, but when it came to times of crisis, all humans, even the Survivalists by default looked for a leader to guide them. James as one of the last Founding Fathers and the Otto's were the ones everyone looked to fulfill that role. Gathered near their open mess hall, Troy disclosed tonight's events, "we got to most of their fighters. They're probably just finished clearing the dead. The real damage will be when their injured turn. They won't know what hit them once the night passed. I reckon they'll be too busy putting down their own down and licking their wounds than focus on us for the time being," Troy reported.

"Good. That leaves us plenty of time to regroup and prepare for the second wave." James glanced down at the map on the middle of the table. His statement surprised majority of the people present and auspicious glances were exchanged until Madison voiced most their question.

"Second wave?" She inquired and shot James a puzzled expression, "we're attacking again?"

"They're weak and vulnerable," James answered, voice cool and tapped on a specific point on the map. "Best to end all of this indefinitely, especially with them distracted. There is a way we can come out victorious. I like those odds."

"We should negotiate," Jake piped up. The frown on his face grew. He didn't realize James wanted to plan another attack. "We lost people on both sides... knowing Walker he'll choose his people over more bloodshed. He's lost as many fighters as we have.. the Nation is as _vulnerable_ as we are."

"No." James his voice was clipped as he shook his head, barely sparing Jake a glance. His blue eyes glared at the map, the ire tethered at his fingertips but it was perfectly wrapped in a box and stored for later use. James was a patient man and his anger would only explode when he'd let it. "He won't. You don't know how Walker thinks... what drives him. I'm not going to risk our people- my family again on the whims of a man who keeps killing us. It's us or them. We've talked enough and lost too much. We're not doing this again."

"My father won't-"

"Your father and I talked when the militia was out. He'll die for this place before making deals with Walker and he's right." It was as if James was already several steps ahead of Jake's protest, so when Otto sr. was mentioned a terse silence hung in the air for a few seconds. "I understand the need for peace Jake, but we will never be able to set our differences aside and live peacefully. I gave up on that ever since they got to Phil and Vernon."

"The Tribe was packing to leave the Reservation." Troy was on James' side and barely spared his older brother a glance, arms crossed and looked at the older man, nodding in agreement. "Walker was definitely going to attack while we were down and recovering from the anthrax attack. No point begging for peace or surrender now that we're this far and have a chance of winning. I agree with James."

Cristine watched Jake's body slump, his already sickly pale face twitching with horror. After passing her many moral thresholds, Cristine's ability to care or feel sick about her actions began to dwindle. Reaching this point. Talking to Madison. Confessing to Troy. It all made Cristine finally realize why her father never worried about her as much. Why he was always more concerned about Hailey and Dolores. She inherited this side him. A side he, in her opinion, masterfully hid. Even from her. A side the Ranch desperately needed to win. It was just that this side of her father reverted him into an unpredictable and relapsing drunk. "Me too," Cristine voiced her agreement. She wasn't going to make the same mistake again. The time of talk was long over and the violence wasn't going to stop until one side was down. That side wasn't going to be them. Cristine made eye contact with her father. His quick, appreciative glance bright inside his piercing gaze. Moving her eyes from one pair of blue to the other, she gestured at the map with her head. "We won't have any more chances after this. I'd say is offense is the best defense."

-

As it had so many times over the past hour, Troy found his focused stare drifting towards Cristine. She moved around the infirmary, tending to several wounded members. The presence of the injured did nothing to dwindle his curiosity with her- none drew him as she did. Her usual ruthless and plotting side replaced by a caring and nurturing individual. Troy witness her more frequently like this. Such a stark difference in personality it sometimes left him at a loss for words. Before he could second-guess his intentions, Troy cruised towards Cristine and saw her twist halfway around, having probably seen him coming from her peripheral. He felt his shoulders tense in anticipation to talk to her and was a bit confused by it. But then again, it wasn't as odd anymore given the different mood and feelings involved. "What is it?" Her voice was as cool as her eyes. The hairs on Troy's arms raised, born of a visceral response he defined as simple curiosity. It wasn't so much about the adrenaline coursing through his vein from the recent bloodshed. This time, Troy genuinely wanted to see how Cristine was faring. What she said to him before he left... caring whether he lived, wanting to fix things and Cristine laying bare her feelings. Feelings that ran much deeper than a friendship and pressuring to come back alive. Troy didn't understand what that meant in retrospective, but it was very similar to him wanting to protect their friendship and it eased those unconscious burdens and his hope they would finally go back to normal again.

"Fine," Cristine answered before quickly looking at the beds, not that many were occupied and that in itself was reason enough to celebrate. It meant more able bodied to fight. "It gives us a bit of time to breathe before we end all of this." The two exited the infirmary and the air felt a lot fresher. As they walked, Cristine wondered what else Troy wanted.

Troy curled his fingers around his tactical vest and flexed them repeatedly. His eyes watched the way Cristine's returning frown betrayed her worry and he complimented, "James came up with a solid follow-up plan... I feel that it'll be our last battle before we can finally end this. It will be either us or them." Cristine looked in the distance at Jake and Alicia, he was visibly upset and Alicia seemed to be doing her best to comfort him. Troy followed her gaze and sighed, "Jake's always been that way. Hopeful. He can't help but believe in people... Believe in our humanity. He thinks we can still start a civilization in a civilized manner."

"His way of thinking almost got him killed. It got us in a lot of shit too. Jake can't just the good guy and expect to live like before. We're long past that." Looking away from the couple and stopping near the gates, Cristine crossed her arms under her chest and peered at the shimmering horizon. She hadn't talked to Jake in a while and it felt as if they were drifting apart as friends. When she first arrived Jake was the only one who made her feel welcome and cared. She didn't like this awkward distance between them and hoped they could at least converse after this ordeal. Jake's ideals and determination to hold onto the ways where there were laws and reason ruling over them was perhaps equally dangerous as Troy's irate hunger for chaos and violence.

Troy squinted his eyes when the slowly raising light climbed higher and higher. It was lukewarm from the few rays and it showed that the temperature for the next few days would only increase. Bending forward, Troy rest his arms on the metal rails of the gate. "We'll win this. This will be the changing point, even Jake, it has to."

"We have to. For everyone," Cristine emphasized, a steadiness in her voice carrying that single and sure conviction. She glanced at Troy, his attention fixated on the only direct and straight way that lead to the Ranch. Rubbing the ends of her elbows Cristine verbalized one of her main worries with a complicated look, "we have to look family and friends in the eye and ask them to die for this place."

Blue eyes meet with dark brown. The knit on Troy's face shifted into a mixture of light surprise which then slackened to the militant stare of a steady and sure man. The light passing in his irises was strength and determination of a fighter that reminisced his recent victory. How they managed to turn the stakes with this particular tactic meant everything to Troy. So much had happened, had to be sacrificed, but it was worth it. "It's thanks to your plan most of us are still standing. That's our motivation. It was risky and a lot more could've been killed, but we're all willing to fight till the end. I wish you could've seen when it all went down. That was victory right there." It was discipline, power, and even a streak of chauvinism. Troy basked in it as long as he could and felt accomplished.

Cristine was happy to have offered this plan. It was odd, how, a week and a half ago she probably wouldn't have ever dare to suggest it so freely. She would have feared the panic attacks, sleepless nights and the people she loved looked at her as if she was some kind of cold-blooded monster. But she had nothing to regret, Cristine could step back and drown out her feelings much easier. All their dead and talking to Madison, Troy, and her father began to shift her perspective. The dead were just numbers. Part of those numbers mercy for loved ones and the rest payback against those out to harm what she cared about. And with each added body, her feelings to _really_ care dwindled and that new outlook still frightened her. Killing was a necessity and the new normal. A routine. Troy played a big part in her coming to that conclusion. "If it wasn't for you backing me, I'm not sure how it would've played out." Touching the back of her palm and rubbing her fingers over the tight skin, Cristine muttered, "it's good you made it back."

Troy's mouth was slack and his expression curious, with his brows relaxing. He wondered if Cristine was talking this way because of her confession or the idea that the fighting would reach its climax soon and the realization of their loss landed. He didn't mind this type of concern she had for him. It was a lot better than their arguments, as amusing as they could be. With a laid-back shrug, Troy replied, "I said I would. If it had been my fate to die I would have accept it. I guess I get to live another day to see the ending at least." Troy wasn't afraid to sacrifice his life for the cause or the Ranch. Troy didn't process fear. Better yet, he couldn't. The concept became unrecognizable as he got older. The last time Troy remembered the sensation, he was a kid. When his late mother locked him up. That was the last time he felt scared. That feeling was foreign to him as an adult. Yet, even during the battle, through the violence, the killing, the rush of adrenaline, and excitement, Cristine's words unconsciously influenced Troy's motives. He fought differently last night; with less reckless intent and purpose. He sacrificed one of their own. In the back of his mind there was winning and that knowledge he _needed_ to return for something other than his family or the Ranch. He was going to return for Cristine too. The drive back, Troy kept thinking of her confession, faint smirk in spite of himself from their win and that Cristine admitted she _cared_ and wanted to fix things.

"Whether it had something to do with luck or not doesn't matter. You're alive." Brushing away her curls from her forehead, Cristine took a deep breath before exhaling. She thoroughly thought about her feelings and how genuine they were. Cristine still wasn't a 100% sure, but she knew that she cared about Troy enough to look past his actions, never forget them, and wanted to start over. Cristine wasn't sure where that redo would lead and if her feelings were genuine or even reciprocated, but she wanted to matter as more than a convenient partner to discuss survival tactics and battle plans.

Troy answered nonchalantly, "I almost thought I wouldn't. Then I got an opportunity to do something that saved me." Troy rubbed his fingers against the steel of the gate and said, "I got backed into a corner... I was together with Cole and he got hit just before extraction."

Cristine remembered Cole, she helped recruiting him, and heard he was one of the unfortunate victims of the attack. She listened to Troy retelling the story and asked, "one of the new recruits? What happened?"

Troy nodded. "He lost a lot of blood, bullet hit an artery and muscle I think. He wasn't going to make it and asked me to end it for him. I did, but not permanently. Shot him in the heart and placed his body where the Nation kept their families. After, I waited for him to turn so he could buy me and the others time and he did." Troy paused and looked back at Cristine whose reaction was surprisingly cool when presented with that fact. He relaxed and added, "I tested your theory about one's state of mind influencing the turning process. You were right. Cole turned half the time as usual and that saved my ass."

"..."

Troy tipped his head a bit and opened his mouth again, feeling the need to justify his actions. "You asked me to come back. Making that call helped me do that." Staring at dark eyes peering up at him, Troy wanted to know what was on her mind. Cristine didn't look at him with disgust or aversion as with the Trimbols. He watched the subtle tension set in her jaw, but the dark saccharine brown hue of her irises softened. "Are you angry I used one of our own like that?"

"You said he wouldn't have made it right?" Her gaze didn't feel heavy or judgmental. "Sounds to me you worked with what you had." Sometimes, even Cristine was confused by their dynamic and how they talked so clinically. As if they didn't argue so many times before and did horrible things. They could usually set aside their issues and personal feelings for the important things. But those same issues always managed to sprout up at inconvenient times and Cristine didn't want to ignore all what had happened anymore. Not when there were deeper feelings involved now, illogical as they were. She couldn't ignore them as easily now Cristine cracked her knuckles. She hated their unresolved issues, because they would bite her in the ass at the most inconvenient times. They already did. When she made the decision to let her hurt and anger with Troy and her father overshadow their chances of survival. It left them open to a poison attack and people died. That was on her. It was best to rip off this and aid and put it all out in the open rather than letting it fester by ignoring it or pretend it didn't happen and she asked, "where do we go from here on out?"

Troy pushed at his lower lip and his gaze dropped, the traces of remorse for the Trimbols, however faint, present. He kept his hands occupied and scratched his throat with a cough. The pitch in his voice lowered half a note, "well you said we would fix things. You also said we wouldn't go back to how we were before and that you like me as more than a friend."

"I didn't lie," Cristine admitted in an equally soft tone and felt her face warm up again. "Thing is, I don't- I don't know for sure if what I feel for you is genuine." She quickly added to clarify, "I never needed to pretend with you. That's why I go to you first. You don't look at me the way my dad or Hailey sometimes do. They don't mean to, but I can see it from a mile away. I think that's one of the reasons my dad wants me to stay on the Ranch as much as possible. With you, I can more easily accept that everything I did aside from saving others is also part of me... maybe it has been for a while now. The things I do and will probably keep doing, you get that. I need that around me."

Troy's statements was a bit jokingly, even if there was some truth to his words, "sounds to me you didn't want to lose your partner in crime. I get that." Troy didn't understand how this explanation fully fit the mold of Cristine liking him, but he was pleased that she was finally honest about her nature. Troy traveled his fixed stare from the profile of her face, eyes lingered on the healing skin at the edge of her mouth and her moving jawline. He wanted to pry and discover what really went through her mind that could become as dark as his own, birthed of a visceral and natural response to fight. It reminded Troy of the time he was so mesmerized with the way she gutted two grown men. It was such a violent and pristinely human moment. Feeling the base part of his mind distracting him, Troy his irises went back and forth between hers and he commented, "I guess we're more the same when it comes to that. You're one of the few around I don't feel like I have to hide or hold myself back either. I'm grateful for that." Troy was pleased Cristine finally accepted what he'd seen and knew all along. She was like him and there wasn't any need to hide who she was around him. It was the same for him. His other urges were laid bare when she was present. Troy could breathe around her before he'd have to tamper himself around others. With the end of the world and Troy having so much more freedom, the thing inside wanted to claw itself out from it's restrictions and he would do that now that they were at the point of no return. "If that ties to what you said before I left about liking me... I think we're in the same boat."

Cristine's eyes twitched at the assessment and indirect confession. She hadn't expected him to react so cool about it, but it sounded like it was his way of saying that they were at the same wavelength when it came to fully accepting the others more primal and ruthless nature. It wasn't right, but it explained Troy's obsessive behavior more and she could make sense of his admittance that he wanted to protect their friendship from being ruined by Madison. It also clarified why Troy was using manipulation, something he probably deemed as normal, to showcase his devotion, loyalty, and trust regarding their connection. Troy watched the subtle shifts that developed within her. The pursing of her lips, the twitch of her jaw and the way she reeled in her facial muscle into that mask. It was usually the way those quiet obsidian eyes glittered that displayed her inner thoughts and how her stare was prickling on his skin.

Since they were opening up, more so Cristine, Troy asked curiously, "how do you control it like that?"

Her inquiry was careful and the confusion Cristine showed on her face when Troy suddenly diverted the conversation with a vague question. "Control what?"

"Your emotions." Troy cleared up his bright eyes fixated on her face. When he saw how confused Cristine still was by his statement, Troy elaborated, "your anger specifically. How do you keep it under control most of the time? You keep it bottled up inside and stay calm. You play along until you don't have to and strike at the right moment. Usually when you have the advantage. Like with Ben and Willy. Now this plan. How do you do that?" There was a certain appreciation and respect in Troy's tone. Even a little bit of envy to such disciplined self-control. He struggled with that. His emotions often took over and he wasn't always in control when that happened. The darkness all to willing to spill and rampage. If it was one thing Troy wanted it was to have that type of extreme control Cristine had, but he could never find it. It got worse. Especially, when they were at a disadvantage and he lashed out in moments like with Mike or Jake. The reason Troy let this slip was because it felt like the right moment to ask. "In spite of everything, despite being angry with me, you haven't let it take over and quit on me." It confused him, because it were family and close friends who needed to fulfill that true type of loyalty. Not someone he was around for a few months. Keeping what he did to Mike from Cristine was probably his biggest mistake. She was still upset deep down and she would, as much as Troy wished she wouldn't. It made everything unnecessarily complicated. This was the most Troy said about the matter without sounding self-centered. It was unusual too. Cristine wasn't even trying to manipulate him anymore, like Madison did, for her benefit. It probably explained the feelings he couldn't fully comprehend as it was the first time he ever felt like this towards anyone. Troy couldn’t bring the Trimbol’s back. What was done was done and Mike was dead. His best friend now part of his memory and part of him. "I guess- what I'm trying to say is... I want to make things right and I owe you. I also think having the type of control you have will help me. So it won't take complete control over me. It'll keep me alive longer, which in turn makes my chances to come back alive higher."

Cristine gulped, eyes stretching and she grumbled uncomfortable by Troy's uncharacteristic openness and wrung her hands, leaning on the metal gate, wring together, the movement didn't go unnoticed by Troy. Her body was heavy from his words weighing down her chest. Her heart felt like it splintered by Troy's admittance that her vulnerable and selfish request did, in fact, matter to him. It was such a simple and practical request he asked of her, but to Cristine it sounded like Troy just admitted he would come back because she _asked_ him to. Instead of sacrificing himself to fulfill his calling, whatever that meant to Troy. His eyes suddenly felt as heavy as his words and Cristine stared straight ahead and was just grateful that when she blushed it didn't show on her skin. But the back of her neck, ears and cheeks pumped with heat and scraped her throat with a cough. "I agree it can't happen again and no one can know about the Trimbols. No one will, I promise. I don't want you to do it just because I asked though. I want you to do it for you and the Ranch. For your family."

"I think my father knows. I get the feeling James told him," Troy confessed, his emotions hidden again. His stare fixed on the space in front of them too. After a bout of silence he huffed a breath that sounded close to a disdain. "Weird thing is, he's not angry. He's either in the house or going to Nick's. Stinking of booze and wallowing in self-pity and ranting." Jeremiah's affliction wasn't a secret. Having experience with her own father's alcohol abuse, the signs were clear as day. Neither men tried to hide it anymore. The detachment, sudden bouts of anger, the smell, and the lack of focus and responsibility. Cristine despised it. "Truth is, Big Otto doesn't care about anyone but himself. Family and friends be damned. Like always." Troy showed a complicated look and shifted on his feet. A look that said he didn't fully understand why Jeremiah silently allowed him to do all these questionable things for the greater good, but then also looked at him like he was a chip on the shoulder. Was it just guilt and making amends for their dysfunctional past? Troy didn't get why his father was this detached.

"Like you said, they won't change and that's a sign that we should. I'll always love my dad, but when we win, I'm going to think about me and Hailey. You should do the same. Think about you... you and Jake." Cristine wisely interrupted Troy's self-deprecating rant. Whether he was aware of it or not, Troy tried to garner sympathy. Cristine wouldn't give him all of it right away... not yet. She sighed, "we'll have time complaining about our drunk dads another time. So unless either of us is dead, we focus on what matters next. We'll get through this and I'll help you with _that_ too." Troy moved his head, quietly indicating he was listening and registered all Cristine said. The pressure in his body and mind lessened significantly and Troy rubbed at his hands, lining his tongue over his dried lips. That was the closest to a 'we're good' Cristine had ever given him and it was more than enough. Feeling a gentle stroke near the outer side of his right hand, close at his pinky finger, Troy's eyes darted to their outstretched hands and watched the careful and deliberate movement of Cristine's index finger touch. Troy quickly alternated his stare between Cristine and their touching hands and was quiet until, finally, he reciprocated the gesture with a quick flick of his slender finger in response. It felt like the right thing to do. Dark irises meet with stark blue. The subtle guarantee and silent promise glistened on the surface of Cristine's gaze and it elicited an upward twist on her lips. Troy returned her smile with a silent nod of understanding.

"How's your face?" After a while, Troy asked and looked at the dark bruising. Last time, he used that to distract Cristine from her anger with him, which only agitated her more. Troy decided he would try and maneuver away from using things like that. She didn't do that with him so he would offer Cristine that same respect in return. She retracted her hand and he watched her touch the injury with the tip of her fingers, Cristine winced while absently stroking the healing skin back and forth in a soothing motion.

"Still hurts like hell, but it'll fade." Cristine glanced at him and Troy blinked. The muscles in her body managed to relax more the longer they stared at each other. "They always do," she added, a familiar statement that carried deeper resentment to a situation that needed its chapters closed. Troy moved his weight over his legs before running his neck.

"Yeah. Yeah they do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What did we think about this? Was it satisfying for you guys? I don't believe Troy will confess in a full-blown way like Cristine did, even if he kind of did. But he'd do it indirectly and show it in his actions. But from this point onwards I'd say that while they are aware, they aren't together in the traditional sense like how Jake and Alicia are. I don't know, it doesn't feel right yet and I don't want to write that way because I feel it will be too ooc. What do you guys think? 
> 
> From this point onwards the story will diverge from the canon story, I think I will add one or two more major moments, because they are integral (and this is an apocalypse so everything can happen *wink *wink), but I can't spoil of course. The ending of this book is still pretty vague to me me and a lot of what I will be focusing on are the emotional bonds of Troy and Cristine in particular and some of their other connections. I sometimes get the feeling that with slow burns when the characters are canon, the spark isn't there anymore or the story just ends and that's it. I don't want that, because it has never satisfied me as a reader and writer because there is so much more to explore after canon I think. I hope I can bring that to live in this story as well.
> 
> As always, share your thoughts, ideas and what you guys think of this particular chapter!


	61. PART 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Empty chapter. Click next

Next chapter is up!


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, so I'm feeling a lot better now and finally finished the chapter! Thank you all for the well wishes🙏
> 
> Enjoy the chapter!

"You need to see this boss," commenting this while looking through the binoculars peering down at the truck stop, Cooper handed it to Troy and the bearded archer narrowed his eyes. The way they left the Reservation was one of chaos after their attack. His nostrils twitched at the burnt scent of what smelled like flesh, wood, and gasoline. Cooper pointed at Black Hat Reservation and commented as Troy silently perused the Nation's home. "There's still some dead, but their tents and vehicles are all gone… seems they put a lot of it on fire." Turning to watch Troy again, Cooper asked, "you think they bounced?"  
  
"Maybe, but let's not celebrate just yet. Could be a smokescreen. Their soldiers could've stayed and are waiting to ambush us as we speak. What I would do to get some payback." Troy lowered the binoculars and his face was oddly calm. His eyes were cold and his jaw was set, but other than nothing but composure oozed from his body, such a contrast to the adrenaline-filled skirmish he maneuvered in with natural ease the same as breathing. Cooper didn't know what Troy was thinking, but he waited for his leader to give the order. His life, that of his squadmates, and their people back home would depend on what Troy decided right now.  
  
"What are our orders?" Cooper saw Troy's faint smug signature smirk and felt the edge of his lip move up. Real sacrifice and real men on their battles by handing down the definite victory that left no room for hesitance or chance. For Troy and most of them, anything other than confrontation and aggressive action was the way to crush and defeat their enemy.  
  
"We check the place, search for tracks too and call home and tell them to set the traps and arm up for a possible attack by the Nation. I'm not sure what Walker has planned, but neither side has won yet, but we're all desperate to end this with nothing but the other's total surrender." Troy ordered the others into small teams to sweep the area and systematically check the buildings first. Their flashlights beamed and attracted the few dead that were barely active and heavily charred like coal-colored crusts of burned meat.  
  
"Jesus," Troy heard the flabbergasted harsh whisper of Cooper when the moved to sweep the area where the Nation's families were located, it was as desolate as the rest with tools scattered around and left behind in a hurry. Troy wanted to ask Coop what he saw as he followed the man's line of sight and stepped next in line to the larger man and slightly lowered his rifle and sighed. His blue eyes took in the desperate two arms reaching out for them, hard snapping of a jaw with its flesh peeled off and revealing tissue and muscle. It's croaking and snarling was unintelligent, only that it was roused back vigorously by two potential meals in its vicinity that it could never reach because of the way its body was melted together with the militia fatigue and the fact that only his torso was left behind. "Cole. Poor bastard." Cooper's gruff sounding voice bounced in the night and hearing him reach for his knife, Troy patted him on the arm.  
  
"I'll do it," Cooper was quiet for a few seconds, but nodded in understanding. Troy thought he saw a bit of pity flash through the latter's eyes, but he ignored it and unclasped his hunting knife from its clasp and walks up to the decimated body of the turned Cole who was only recognizable by his militia wear. Crouching down to his knees, just a few inches out of the flesh torn nails trying to claw for his face, Troy stares back. Sometimes, he wondered how those reanimated brain cells only kept the far-off muscle memory intact. Looking into those milky eyes his expression shifted. It looked pathetic, the way it was snarling like some rabies-infected beast and it's hard to put a name into, but Troy was all but too eager to put it down. This wasn't Cole anymore, but it had saved him in a way, so he'd at least keep his word to the man that had fought well. Troy jams the knife from the underside of the chin, twisting through flesh and bone scrunching and mushing from the force. He watches the eyelids flutter shut and Cole's body dropped down like a rag doll.   
  
"We found vehicle tracks," a voice crackled through the walkie-talkie and Troy clipped the radio from his waist and asked, "Which direction?"  
  
"East from the look of it. We can't find any tracks that are splitting up," the man responded from the other side of the signal and Troy frowned as his thoughts raced. He didn't know that part, but it was away from the Ranch. They were lucky there was only one main road leading back home.   
  
"What's your estimation?"  
  
"From the looks of the tracks, they have a headstart of one to two hours."  
  
"We can catch up with our trucks," Cooper said from behind him and Troy nodded in agreement.

"Alright, we head back to our trucks and-"

**BOOM!**

A thundering blast ignited from the gas station, barely some yards away, a blinding ray of orange-red shot into the air lighting up the area. A fraction of a second later, a huge ball of bright fire birthed from the blinding flash and formed an irregular looking mushroom that mounted to overtake the skies and oxygen, twisting and changing in shape, turning into a mix of bulky flames and pitch-black smoke. Pieces of glass, sand, and steel showered down. Troy had seen bombs and this was better than a homemade one, this was the work of a professionally timed one. Lowering his arm he reflexively raised as a shield, Troy looked in the direction of the spreading fire and thumbed his walkie angrily, and in a pitched voice asked for a status report.

"…" Only the sound of crackling from the other side answered Troy and the hot pit of fury settled deep in his gut. A desperate last-ditch effort from the Nation who had fled like cowards and still managed to take out part of his squad. "Shit," Troy cussed with a severe expression.  
  
  
  
-  
  
  
_1 month later_  
  
  
A bright light greeted Cristine's slowly parting eyes and with a discomforting grumble pressed her face full-first into her pillow. Just as the shadows of her sleep threatened to pull her back in there, the loud bangs on her door made Cristine jump up from her mattress. Her curls bounced around the sides of her face and shoulders. She swiftly reached for the weapons underneath her pillow and prowled to her window and peeked through the curtain with her eyes sharply curled at the edges. Blinking, Cristine registered the figure and with a defeated sigh put the safety back on her gun and loudly marched to her door and pulled it open. The rich smell of home fry and coffee hit her face, but Cristine's agitation of wakening up so suddenly. "Good morning sleepy head!" She opened her mouth to talk, but her sister already breezed past her with two trays of breakfast and put them down on the small table. Cristine her glazed, half-lidded eyes squinted together from the sharp morning sun that was already ablaze in its full glory. The sleep still had her brains in its grasp and rubbing her tired eyes with the curve of her finger, Cristine looked over her shoulder where Hailey position their food and utensils.  
  
"I got you breakfast and coffee before it was all gone again." Hailey piped up with a big smile on her flushed cheeks, gleam like pretty diamonds. "Else you'd sleep the whole day." Her chipper mood didn't go unnoticed and it made Cristine grumble, but she was thankful for the coffee at least. Before passing, she planted a kiss on the corner of her baby sister's forehead and plopped on the chair adjacent to Hailey's. Watching how Hailey meticulously smear her toast with freshly churned butter, Cristine felt her appetite creep up.  
  
"I think I'm allowed to given that I did the late shift," Cristine reminded and a soundless yawn spilled over her lips, and sniffed the pleasant food. Hailey pressed the warm mug in her palm and Cristine slowly sipped the hot beverage. It wasn't that bitter and the caffeine tasted exceptional when it hit her tongue. "Is that honey?"  
  
"Yup!" The last letter popped from Hailey's plump, cherry lips, and her smile was bright and dazzling. "the result of simple stitching to a bad cut with a bit of flirting and voila; a special cup of coffee to go with breakfast." Brushing her shoulder-length locks aside, reminding Cristine she needed a haircut, Hailey looked very smug and accomplished and Cristine shook her head. "C'mon you like it and it's a good treat before going out."  
  
Cristine's dimpled smile erased the suspicious expression for Hailey's positive mood. "So that's why you're acting like a bouncing ball. You're excited."  
  
"Of course! I mean we usually stay behind the fences because we have our responsibility here. We never go out if we don't have to."  
  
"Exactly, we're only going because we need medical supplies and equipment. We're the only ones who know what to look for and it needs to be quick," Cristine kept her excitement dampened, but she didn’t want to ruin that of Hailey's for the time being. It was still a risky mission, but if what Troy told her was true this run was going to be life-changing. A few days ago, he and the Militia found a medical institute. According to the pamphlet, it boasted of its medical assisting labs with the same equipment as hospitals and clinics. It was a goldmine, which was both positive and negative. The first places people went in overpopulated places were supermarkets and hospitals so it was either overrun by the dead and then stripped empty by looters after. Or both. They had the rough outline of the map and after scouting it for a bit, there was a way around to sneak in and out without much ado.  
  
"Aren't you a bit excited? After we won from the Nation?"  
  
"We didn't win if they're still alive."  
  
"They fled the only place they knew as their home, even if they wanted to take ours. I mean it's almost been a month sis," Hailey softly added and tapped her fingers on the side of her cup with light optimism. Cristine was naturally a pessimist at heart, so unless there were identified corpses of at least Walker, she'd never feel they were safe. Not really. If it something, it meant to be more vigilant than before. When Troy and the militia went out for the last attack, to indefinitely take out the Nation, the truck stop was empty. All their vehicles and tents were gone as if they were swallowed by the land. It was a bitter victory, many wanted retribution for everything lost and done to them by the Nation. They were still vigilant and had their eyes wide open and ears cocked for even a shift in the sand. They fortified the walls and gates. The front gates and fences were covered with spiked barrier traps made of wood and metal. Two large iron doors formed an enclosure and could only be opened from the inside. Accepting new members was necessary with the acreages of the Ranch. A lot of land with a lot of people lost to defend it as well. They took new people under very strict rules. Cristine hated it due to the obvious bias from the majority and voiced her aversion to it. James was able to establish leniency in staying open to people that could contribute.  
  
Cristine sipped some more of the sweetened coffee and pulled her shoulder up, unapologetic of her outlook of their 'win'. "A threat is still a threat, especially one we can't pinpoint." The shifting of her facial expression was stronger than whatever comment that came next and Hailey sighed.  
  
"Way to ruin my excitement." Hailey puckered her lips into a pout. Her sister always managed to dampen the mood when there was a sliver of positivity around. Biting her lip, Hailey stuck out her tongue in accusation.  
  
"Don't mention it. It's what I do best."  
  
After their slow but otherwise pleasant breakfast together, Cristine couldn't sleep anymore and took a cold shower. The cool water was like a blessing to her skin and she relished in the essence of the cold droplets. Afterward, she brushed her teeth and took some scissors to cut her hair locks to a decent length and put it into her usual ponytail. Cristine dressed in some tight camo and protective clothes before heading for the infirmary.   
  
"Brabababa!" The incoherent sounds of excited cooing melted Cristine's heart the second she stepped into the infirmary. Her face flourished the instant she spotted the chubby little Christine on her mother's bouncing knee. Every time Cristine saw the little sprout, it was like she grew in length and size equally. Alicia was busy doing the weekly checkups and Cristine curiously shuffled close to stare at her namesake playing with what looked like a glasses case.  
  
"She's gotten fatter last time I saw her," Cristine's comment surprised Kathy who chuckled and Alicia rolled her eyes. "What? It's cute."  
  
"We know. You're one of the reasons she's gotten so chubby." Alicia answered with a smile, it was no secret Cristine was completely infatuated with the little Christine. The girl could do no wrong in the medic's eyes and was one of the few things to make Cristine genuinely smile. Some even used the little girl to bribe Cristine. Hell, Cristine was on the top of the list to babysit when Kathy had cooking or field duty. Seeing Cristine walk around with a baby sling was the most perfectly odd and charming thing ever.  
  
"And heavy," Kathy added for good measure and kissed her daughter on her plump little red cheek. Her eyes sparkled to life even through her weariness.  
  
"Which is why she needs to eat less," Alicia advised and Cristine made such a shocked face it was as if the teen had punched her in the gut. "You know for being our smartest medic with the most experience around, you're lack of objectivity when it comes to Christine is… interesting."  
  
"I'm objectively giving this doll only the best we have, isn't that right cutie?" Cristine was already immersed in playing and tickling the excited one-month-old. The one month hold her brabbling words mixed with what sounded like laughter lightening the mood several degrees.  
  
"I packed everything you asked me to," Alicia beckoned Cristine to follow her to one of the empty cots and showed her the slightly bulging knapsack. Patting it, Cristine listened to the younger woman's sudden inquiry, "You think we'll be able to use the equipment to make our own medicine?"  
  
"It'll make the process easier," Cristine answered and stared at their infirmary stock that was still decent but would run low in few months or so and that was excluding the medicines that would expire. "This place has portable equipment to press pills. If the folder is true we could make up to 5000 pills per hour. They don't last as long as the bigger machines, but that's more than enough to last us."  
  
"We're not chemists Cristine," everything Cristine said made sense. While true that when they would own sophisticated machinery to manufacture their tablets, it would still require them to mix pills with the correct measurements and accuracy and test them on willing patients. "Correctly mixing and testing chemicals is not our forte."  
  
Cristine smiled, happy with the critical questions from Alicia, "that's where the excipients come in. A place with these pharmaceutical tools usually has the ingredients for product formulation. They're usually standardized and can be the bulk. Besides, the manufactured stuff is just for the short term since we'll have to grow our herbs at one point. This option will give us more time to figure out the water issue." She whispered the last sentence after a perusing glance at Kathy who was distracted by her fussing daughter.  
  
"Right," Alicia scratched her temple, but her facial expression only seemed to turn gloomier, "my mom mentioned something about a place near the border?"  
  
Cristine nodded. "Yeah, the militia spotted it. An old arena, a bazaar, with a lot of traffic and people where you can trade anything for the right price. It's worth a shot and we need to fill our reserves soon. My dad mentioned rationing and if that happens we won't have enough for the cattle. We'll have to put them down to make do."   
  
"One problem at a time," Alicia sighed defeatedly, but the prospect of them being able to make their tablet for a considerable while was at least a light in the dark. "Aside from the Otto's and our families, we're the only ones that know."

"Yeah, and we need to keep it that way to prevent a panic. We'll figure it out. Like you said one problem at a time." Cristine grabbed her bag and swung it over her shoulder and glanced around the infirmary with a more relaxing look before looking at Alicia again. Her features softened significantly when addressing the eighteen-year-old, "I'm glad you settled in and are doing something you believe is worthwhile."

"Me too. You're a good teacher," Alicia smiled when Cristine nudged her in the elbow and her tone slightly dropped, "you and Hailey be careful out there."

"Don't worry we will. You keep the fort protected and I'll keep an eye out on Nick too." The last bit seemed to fully put Alicia at ease, knowing her brother had someone to watch her brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this starts part 2 of this book with a short time skip. I have a few good things in mind. I had to end the Nation-Ranch arc, but I've left some clues here and there that I'll keep sprinkling around since danger is always lurking. This is a pretty short chapter, but it's also the intro of what we can expect. I'll be focusing on mostly survival again and of course the development of our (problematic) couple. 
> 
> What are your theories and first thoughts so far?


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: fluff and all that good stuff.

Cristine headed to the pantry after she left the infirmary to get ammunition for her gun. It was a bustling day, and everyone was busy one way or another. She passed the half-open tent where the younger members of their community had their afternoon classes before their chores. It made Cristine smile. Seeing the lined tables with the tiny human beings listening attentively to their teacher explaining on the chalkboard almost felt like the world hadn't ended. Incorporating structure and system for their children was Jake's idea, and it was met with a lot of support from their parents. It wasn't just to gain a sense of normalcy or distraction from the outside; it was about teaching them the basics of survival and practical knowledge for the future. If they were going to maneuver through the madness of the new world, educating their youngest was one of the steps. The Survivalists were intelligent enough to choose a path of self-sustainment. Something even Cristine still didn't know as extensively herself, but she was a quick learner herself. She had to be and passing on that knowledge to their people; their younger ones was key. Seeing people walk in and out of the pantry with supplies and materials, Cristine made a little sprint down the stairs. She breezed through the entrance, heading in a straight beeline for the armament. The militia made a few adjustments to the barred caged. It could now house one person in charge of keeping track of every bullet and gun they owned for safety measures. With the few new people came stricter rules, and the system for a lot of stuff changed. Everything had to be accounted for, especially when it came to guns and medical supplies. Someone from the militia usually kept track of the weaponry. At the same time, one of the medics did the inventory for the medicine. When it came to the guns and ammo, everyone's name was recorded near the beginning and end of the day by either Troy, Cooper or Blake. 

"Alright. Here are your weapon and two boxes of ammo." Cristine heard his voice before she could see him and swallowed with slight anticipation. Avoiding the stream of people going in and out to gather their usual tools and equipment for their chores on the land, Cristine stood in the short line. Running her thumb up and down underneath the rough material of her knapsack's loop, she patiently waited her turn. She started to chew on her lower lip. "Make sure you don't squander them. Our ammo is plentiful, but we don't waste it. Got that?"

"Yes, sir." The militia member, clad in his uniform, answered religiously after the comment of his leader. After the militiamen finished writing his check-in, Cristine tipped her head down in silent greeting at his respectful nod. She walked up to the counter of the secured wire storage partition. He'd just turned to secure the rifles that just got in. Cristine took a minute to stare at his back and noticed that he was still wearing his lighter uniform and not his full attire when going out for a run.

_"He must've pulled through the night,"_ Cristine thought to herself and unclipped the gun and holster from her hip and placed it on top of the half-open counter of the caged booth. The sound of her dropping the metal grabbed his attention after he fastened one of the AK's and twisting his head. Troy's serious expression fell flat only to relax when registering who it was. Showing him a closed-lip smile with her arms crossed, Cristine pushed her gun forward, much to Troy's judging stare over the fact that she hadn't brought it back. "I forgot to check in because of my long shift. But since I'll be going out in a couple of hours, you could just write my name down for today again?" Her request came out as a question at the end.

"Huh." The sound leaving Troy's mouth was an unimpressed one. His turtle face showed that he wasn't going to let it slide either. Not when it came to rules he set in place. Cristine groaned and removed her cap. Troy feigned browsing through the clipboard's paper sheets and heard him mutter some irrelevant names on the list to search for hers. Cristine tapped her left boot on the stone surface and scratched the side of her temple. This was ridiculous.

"Troy-"

"Here we go. Cristine Gerrard checked in yesterday at 1800 hours. I see you picked your usual; the Glock 17." Troy wasn't going to let this slide, so Cristine endured. She listened to the man talking about the gun its stats, having taken it for himself to examine the handgun compact handgun. "Produced in 1982 in Austria. When this one first came out, people were concerned about how durable and reliable it would be. Eventually, the Glock became the most profitable product line, and they supplied these in more than 48 countries."

"Hmm," Cristine hummed and kept looking straight into his relaxed gaze while Troy unloaded the weapon and set it down on the counter again. His pointed look bore heavily on her, waiting for her to continue, and Cristine sighed before twisting her mouth into a faint scowl. Her shoulders dropped, and she squeezed out her apology, "listen, I'm sorry for not checking this back in last night. It won't happen again, I promise. Now can you please lock this on my name with some extra ammo to go? I have a run today."

Troy was secretly pleased with her apology but kept his serious face intact, his stare silent and solemn. He was debating whether he should rile Cristine up some more. But he decided against it at the last time; Cristine's scowl and her apology were enough. He couldn't be lenient with her simply because she was tired from her shift and had certain privileges. There was always time to do something as simple as checking one's borrowed tools back in. It wouldn't do if everyone just did as they pleased, and it was wrong to make exceptions just because things were different between them. What use were the set rules then? Troy hoped it wouldn't happen again and asked, "heard you had an emergency."

"Yeah. Leo fractured his foot from a lifting accident. His bones shifted out. He'll be out for a bit."

Troy nodded before turning around to grab ammunition for Cristine. He said nonchalantly, "well, don't be too hard on yourself. It's common for accidents to happen. Part of the Ranch life."

"I guess," Cristine cocked her head and tapped her finger on the counter before narrowing her own eyes suspiciously. "Why did _you_ pull through the night?"

"... couldn't sleep. So I did an extra shift to let the work tire me out. Before I knew it, it was morning." Cristine hadn't didn't miss how Troy paused before answering, and the tilt in his voice betrayed he was telling her a half-truth. Her eyebrows scrunched together and didn't disappear when he turned and shook the box of magazine clips for her gun. "Here you go, sign off these two, and you're good to go." Troy didn't react to Cristine's sharp eyes when he slid the clipboard in front of her.

"It's almost time for you to switch shifts, right?" Cristine asked, eyes moving over his body as if she could see through his clothes.

Troy looked around his working area with a nonchalant expression before looking back and answered, "yeah. I still need to get ready and check what we packed for our run. Why?"

"I'll wait."

As she said, Cristine waited for Troy to finish near the entrance of the pantry. Rubbing her palms over the front of her jeans, she watched the latter explain the details of the inventory to his replacement. She didn't miss how Troy occasionally snuck a glance in her direction, curious and looking puzzled. Cristine felt the muscles of her face shift and reflexively felt the pull of her cheeks that faltered. They hadn't seen each other as much lately because of their conflicting shifts and the workload. After the Nation, they had to rebuild and fortify everything. Alternative outposts were set up, and the militia had to start going out further away to get useful supplies. What first took a day or two extended to four or five days being away. It was how the milia found this medical institute. Cristine had told Troy about wanting to produce their own medicine for the long run when medicines expired. When Troy finished, Cristine rose to her feet and, without exchanging any words, headed in the direction of the Big House. 

"So you gonna tell me why you really took another shift, or are you going to stick to the 'couldn't sleep' bullshit you just told me." Cristine looked at Troy with accusatory eyes and noted the way the bones underneath his jaw tensed. He was unwilling, but she didn't give a shit. Troy was serious when it came to his responsibilities, but not to the point of becoming a workaholic for him to pull an all-nighter this way. Especially on the day of a run. Cristine was suspicious as to why and it helped that Troy was a shit liar too. She had two guesses and her eyes frosted over thinking about them. 

Troy sighed and briefly lowered his head and rubbed his neck with his palm. "There were some suspicious-looking tracks last night, so a couple of us went out to check it." His voice lowered in volume when giving her an explanation. Troy saw Cristine tense, and the two slowed down in their stride until she reached for his arm and stopped him. The severity of her eyes intensified, inciting a suffocating air that still lingered whenever one would mention the cowardly but strange disappearance of Walker and his Nation. Cristine her jaw ran slack, thoughts racing, but Troy's statement nipped the hope for a clue in the bud, "wasn't anything worthwhile. Just some roamers wandering around. I couldn't sleep after that." Troy slid his hands up his hips, and his forehead wrinkled, "I was thinking of looking over near the roads up north. It's worth a shot." Seeing her expression fog over whilst thinking over the alternative Cristine crossed her arms. 

"We don't really know that part of the land Troy or where to find Walker. Listen, you guys have been steadily doing runs west and came back with many things. This medical institute is one of those things. For now, this is what we need." Cristine slightly shook her head, feeling uncomfortable talking about going out up to a place when they had other priorities, like today's run. She wanted revenge as much as anyone and wasn't naive to his plight. But this obsession was messing with Troy's priorities at the moment. For now, at least, everything was stable. 

"North is where they went, Cristine," Troy haughtily presented his arguments and looked around as if he didn't want anyone to hear him and emphasized with strong hand gestures. "What we _need_ is avenging our dead and closing this chapter. To make everyone feel safe again." He didn't want any of this to be a repeat of what happened with the helicopter and the hell they had to go through. Walker got one on him before he could finish them, and that was on him. He got overconfident and careless and lost good men. Troy take well to loss.

"I agree. So we make a plan for it after. You're paranoid and worried, rightfully, but today is really important." Cristine's brow wrinkled, her unsettling gaze flits between the clear blue irises peering back carefully, leaving no part unobserved. "It's important to _me_, and there is a lot at stake. I _need_ you with me on this with your head in the game Troy." Troy brooded, withdrawing his thoughts. The way he looked down between the space of their boots, he became acutely aware of his indiscretion and checked himself. It wasn't like him to obsess over one threat and neglect his other duties like some amateur, especially when he sort of went out of his way to search for this place after Cristine shared her long-term plan for their medicines.

"I know. I mean, it was me who found this place, remember?" Troy slid his hands in his pockets. He pulled his shoulders up and said, "I still rather our two medics didn't come because of the risks involved at a crowded place like this." The way Cristine exaggerated her eye roll raised the edges of his lips. A cocky smirk only Troy could pull off during serious moments mellowed out the once tense air between the duo. 

"Fully agree about Hailey, but stop treating me like a teacup, or I'll cut you. Besides, you put together a much larger group than usual for this run like an overprotective dad. What happened to small, quick, and precise?" 

Troy snorted, "Yeah, well, with James, Dolores, Jake, and even Alicia breathing in my neck to keep you two safe, I didn't have much choice but to choose the best of the best. As you said, there's a lot at stake for today's run." Troy's eyes narrowed the slightest bit before reaching out, hands passing the side of Cristine's face and fingers brushing the end of her coiled ponytail. "I see you finally cut your hair." His comment wasn't anything special, but the action caught Cristine off-guard. She took a large, deep savoring breath, her rapid blinking leading to a surprised expression. Troy didn't seem to have noticed her reaction until he realized Cristine was looking up at him, eye contact strong. His eyes didn't move away when the dark-brown darted back and forth at him like a weight kept his eyes pinned there. Troy waited until she broke the long stare off. The slightly curved corners of her eyes wrinkled, drawing attention to their sheen that flared despite being so dark in color. Even then, Troy couldn't help but try to find the bottom of those endless pools. He slowly retracted his hand but didn't widen the distance he unconsciously closed. 

Finally clearing her throat, Cristine answered with a silly grin, dimples showing at either side. "Yeah. It was getting too long. Safer to cut those inches than risk getting caught by the dead or have it stuck somewhere." The conversation was practical, and it marked the actual time that passed between them to be able to talk or see each other for more than five minutes this week alone. The muscles inside Cristine's body and face visibly relaxed when whispering with nervous laughter, "it's good we're going on this run together." Cristine brushed her index finger against the side of his hand. The conversation's militant and practical aspects were gone and instead replaced by one of their rare moments of vulnerability. 

"Yeah. These are some hectic times. But we did some top-notch work for the militia and infirmary if I have to say so myself," Troy agreed while looking down at Cristine's fingers, gently caressing the back of his hand and knuckles. He'd slowly gotten used to this new side of their relationship where he and Cristine weren't just friends anymore. However, there was still a lot of ambiguity. Certain aspects of what they did together resembled Jake and Alicia. Still, neither of the two felt the urgency to label the other as something fixed. Troy's eyes lingered on Cristine's pursed lips, and licked his own before scratching his throat. They hadn't gone so far doing any of that, kissing or anything further than the touches Cristine initiated when it was the two of them. Troy was convinced his disinterest from seeking out any relationship with this much intimacy had something to do with exposing himself. It meant being vulnerable when that was the last thing he'd ever compromise on. But at this point, with how the dynamics between him and Cristine shifted so much, his fierce need to protect their relationship, being able to just be himself around him, and Cristine's confession a few weeks ago, Troy wasn't going to break his mind over the unconventional yet logical way they'd structured this. They weren't Jake and Alicia or any of the other couples here. For Troy, other than his brother, Cristine was the first person he allowed this close and wanted to explore these new things himself. It felt right.

Fighting against the heat in the back of her neck and sealed throat, Cristine was conscious of how intensely Troy was staring at her. The brunette hadn't taken his eyes off of her. The responses he stirred in her were raw and intense. Even now, the knot in her stomach lay like a slab of concrete inside her, as if waiting to surrender to this unsure and abysmal emotion without reason. _"I guess I really missed him."_ Taking a deep breath to fight the compulsion to say or do any more, Cristine said, "you should get ready, or we'll run late." As much as Cristine wanted to stay like this, she ultimately put some distance between her and Troy by stepping back. 

Troy smiles at nothing. In particular, pearly white teeth bared as the thought struck him that his thoughts were much clearer and coherent than before talking with Cristine. "See you in thirty, make sure the others aren't slacking and have everything packed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed everyone missed Troy last chapter and that was what I was going for, because clearly Cristine missed his crazy ass too. This chapter was definitely fluff and addressing the starting blocks of their completely different non-platonic relationship. I tried to write down Troy and Cristine's thoughts as much as possible. Hope you guys like the dynamic and interaction between them so far. We're going out on a run so I will def try to add some good things here and there, but clearly the priorities won't be fully romantic.
> 
> What did you guys think? Share your thoughts please.


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

"Now you two watch over for each other, alright?" James pressed his daughters' heads on either side of his shoulders. The party was almost ready to leave. Cristine squeezed her eyes shut and relished the hug before their father let them go. "You make sure you listen to your sister and whoever else that knows better. They have the experience." James, his concerned gaze remained plastered on his youngest daughter.

"Got it, daddy," Hailey flashed her father a meek and uncomfortable smile that looked pained. Dolores was next to pull her daughter into a strong hug. The reality of the dangers of outside overcame any issues, arguments, or problems in their family. The conflict increased during these past months. Where Cristine slowly set boundaries and new rules between her father, Hailey's relationship with James deteriorated quickly. Still, their issues were so menial in the face where everything else was a risk. James rather neither of the two go and, if possible, that Hailey never set foot outside. She wouldn't have initially, but James relented under the guilty pressure of his youngest daughter's harsh accusations when she threw his misdeeds back in his face. 

_~ ~_

_"You watch your mouth, young lady!" Hailey didn't back down from her father's finger-pointing in her face. The fury roiled from her shaking shoulders, and her teeth were bared. She ignored her mother pulling at her arm to back down from her husband, reddened eyes pleading both to stop._

_"Or what, daddy, you'll hit me too like you did Cristine?!" Hailey couldn't bite her tongue any longer. With everything that happened now, them fighting and surviving this war, their father sunk deeper and deeper into a place of helplessness that was pathetic and weak. She clenched her jaw when James took a step forward, and the liquor on his breath hit her nose. "I'm not going to sit back and watch while you willingly take advantage of her and her love for you. It's wrong! It's always been wrong, and you need to stop!"_

_"Everything I do for your sister, your mother, and you are to protect you! You think we would have made it if we followed Jeremiah!? He's a weak and pathetic man who lost his spine once the Indians came. It was me who made calls to keep us safe! I'm not listening to a child whose biggest problem in life is boys and playing house."_

_"Ha! At least this child is doing something instead of getting drunk every night! No wonder Cristine's all messed up and doesn't know how to trust anyone properly; she's been living with a selfish, entitled sociopath who only cares about himself!"_

_"ENOUGH!" James took another step forward, but Dolores squeezed herself between the two, facing her husband with frightening eyes, and braced herself for whatever was to come next. "You keep her in line, Dolores."_

_Dolores was at a loss for words. Her body shivered when faced with the cold rage of her husband. Her heart hammered in her chest, and it was Hailey who spat from behind, "or what? You'll beat us into submission, dad?"_

_"You-"_

_"What the hell is going on here!?" The trio whipped in the direction of the door. Cristine stood there, body tense, eyes wide with a flabbergasted fury that was more aimed at her father from the threatening manner he towered over Dolores and Hailey. The wood moaned under her weight as she briskly crossed the distance and glared at her father, glowering back with equal anger. However, he relented at the last moment. There was a silent conversation between the two that only they could follow. James scoffed and slammed the glass in hand on the table. James came to himself back, facing his wife and daughters, and a sigh dropped all the pressure on his shoulders._

_"Since everyone wants to be involved, I'll come clean."_

_"Dad-" _

_"They have a right to know Cristine," James interrupted and looked over his shoulder with narrowed eyes. "You all do." James didn't know when his family had become this broken, but this was something that had happened before the apocalypse. This festering tumor was too late to be cut out. Under the guise of protecting and loving them, he allowed it to grow. They all carried that disease of wanting to be seen and loved, Cristine the most. Watching her bruised face, James couldn't bear looking at it too long, or the heated stare of his youngest. He couldn't even look his wife in the eyes. James turned and pulled out the chair from the table to sit down, and after a deep exhale, told his family the story of the sins he committed with the Founding Fathers. James started, "Jeremiah had a terrified wife and two small children he needed to protect from the local Indian tribe. Land dispute, they said the land belonged to them and was sacred. Ironic given that it was sold, but I won't go into those specifics. So we- Vernon, Russell, Phil, Jeremiah, and me- we camped with the herd one night. They came upon us, and we killed them that night. One was Walker's uncle, and his brother came by to find out what had happened. Jeremiah shot him point-blank in the head. It turned out that was Walker he shot. We buried him, and the court investigated and ruled his death as a suicide." James coolly stared at each one of his family members, and his gaze lingered on Cristine the longest. She was visibly shocked and confused. "That's why they want Otto, me, us dead so bad. It's why I want them dead so badly. I'm not sorry about what I did. I own up to it." Licking his lips, James told another lie, "Cristine found out about and confronted me about it, and I lost my temper that night." _

_On the other side, Cristine tensed and looked momentarily confused by her father. She kept quiet and listened, "I'm sorry, Birdie. I'm sorry for putting all of you through this hell. For lying. But know that everything I'm doing is to protect my fam-"_

_"You did it because you were selfish!" Hailey her pitched yell splintered through the terse air. Disbelief and disgust contorted her face, her voice shaky. "Own up to it and stop hiding behind family and your drunk guilt! If you really wanted to protect us, you would've told us sooner!"_

_"Hailey-"_

_"No!" Red-faced, Hailey tore her eyes from her father to her sister. "It's not your job to protect me, Cristine. It never was! It's his! But he can't even do that and thinks lying and drinking and crying will fix that. Don't tell me you're okay with this! Look at your face Cristine, look at him! Look at us! Our family is broken!" _

_ ~~_

James watched Hailey walk in the direction of the jeeps with her mother. His eyes seemed to have sunken in their sockets. Exhaustion lines had significantly aged him these past weeks. "You make sure she's safe," James said, addressing Cristine with a faltering smile that was almost able to fool his daughter. "I know her excitement won't last long when she realizes what's really out there."

"Hailey is strong," Cristine remarked softly and shifted on her feet. Her eyes twinkled with untold worry, telling the tales of her mind, and Cristine said, "I get why you told us about what you did with the Founding Fathers and why you didn't tell me everything. It's hard." Cristine thought her father would come clean about the Trimbols. He never did and instead diverted it to his past misdeeds. It took her a while, but it eventually clicked. Her father didn't want Hailey to hate her for knowing that secret, and that being the reason he hit her. He spun another web of lies with something that was very much the truth to protect her sisterhood. It didn't mean that Cristine wasn't guilty of knowing what she knew, but it helped ease the chaos inside her mind.

"I burdened you with too many of my sins already. The least I can do is take ownership of everything that I've done. Hailey won't ever understand, and if by any chance she finds out about the Trimbols, she needs to be angry and hate me. Not you. Never you. You two are sisters." James could keep looking at his family, still breathing every day to renew his convictions, as twisted as they were, and live with himself and what he'd done.

"C'mon, doc, say your goodbyes. We're on the clock!" Troy yelled impatiently from the vehicles. Cristine couldn't help but roll her eyes and gave her father one last hug. It wasn't as if she had fully forgiven him. Still, if she could make amends with Troy, explore a relationship even, she could most definitely do that with her father.

"I love you, daddy." Cristine felt the strength in her father's embrace and tightened her arms too.

"I love you too, Birdie." James kissed the side of her temple a few times. He walked Cristine to the trucks and called for Troy, who seemed genuinely surprised and stayed behind when the older man asked him. Cristine arched a brow, but at her father's beckoning, walked ahead. She couldn't help but look over her shoulder though wondering what else her father had to say. 

"I appreciate you taking extra care in picking the right people for this run." Troy nodded in understanding. "I can count on you to keep them safe?"

"We'll protect them with our lives. You have my word." Troy unconsciously straightened his already erect pose. "We're well equipped, and this is a get in, get what we need, get out type of mission. Nothing more, nothing less. I expect us to be back tomorrow at dawn the latest." James seemed to relax by his debrief.

"I know you and Cristine are making amends and, uh, courting, dating- whatever you want to call it." The suddenness of James his statement caught Troy completely off guard, and his eyes widened a fraction. Troy wanted to break the moment of awkward silence and retort, but James raised his hand and said, "I don't want to get into that with you, son. The two of you are old enough to make your decisions. I know you'll protect her." Despite the casual sounding tone, Troy still detected the sliver of uncomfortable and unwillingness from James. Like he was forcing himself to say this to him because he needed to respect Cristine's choices and not act like the stereotypical father. "I want to be sure that protection is extended to Hailey too. She is the most inexperienced, and while I rather she doesn't go, it's out of my hands." James steeled his gaze and, in his unwavering voice more or less demanded from Troy, "if anything happens to either, I need you to put my daughters wellbeing first. Even if you have to do what you did that night."

Troy was quiet, but his eyes narrowed, and the darkness of James stirred his own. It wasn't the first time it had, and the familiarity of that thing bearing itself from within James made his jaw clench. It was easier for Troy when someone gave him the okay, an excuse to do whatever he needed to. It simply meant that he was right in his decisions and actions, even with all the whispers and gossip. Whether they wanted to or not, people needed him to be their savior. Not Jake or even his father, not anymore. It was _him_. Still, Troy consciously reminded himself of the promise he made, and meeting James his equal gaze, without batting an eye, said, "I promised I wouldn't keep secrets. So if my hand is forced and I have to make a call like that, I'll tell Cristine the two of us came to this mutual decision."

"You don't have to," James rebutted in a low voice.

Troy shrugged and pulled up his shoulders to show his lack of care. James was a loyal man, but he didn't respect the promises he made with his daughter for his own selfishness. The man treated his daughter's loyalty and love like it was nothing; when it was a luxury. He didn't deserve Cristine, and it didn't sit well with Troy that she still gave James so many chances despite everything. "I think we both _know _I do. As you said, we're fixing things. What we did was necessary, but we also could've handled some things better, like being honest with Cristine."

James looked elsewhere. His nostrils twitched, the subtle ticks within him worsened even more when Troy spoke, "you know I'm right, James." Bright blue irises clashed with his own, and Troy wondered what James saw when he looked at him. A pawn. Someone his daughter cared for. His oldest friend's blood or some naïve boy with anger issues. He didn't care as much about James after realizing the man was the same as his father. A selfish drunk that left others to clean their mess. Troy licked his lower lip before adding, "we miscalculated some stuff, and you're willing to do it again when you don't have to. Cristine isn't Hailey. She's not weak. She cares, maybe a bit too much, but she won't let that get in the way of what we're trying to build here for the Ranch."

"Right. How do you think she'll react if you tell her you're sacrificing everyone just for her sake. You think she'll be flattered and run into your arms?" James tilted his head and could help but scoff at that fantasy Troy had about his daughter. "You're just getting to know my daughter, son after you made her life a living hell. You can come back to me and talk about knowing her once you understand who she really is, and you're the right fit for her."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a tension and conflict love, can ya'll notice? Next chapter we finally hit the road! What are your thoughts so far? How are you guys liking Troy and his overprotectiveness?


	65. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Hides in shame*
> 
> I'm so sorry for not updating for almost a month! Life's just been hectic, we're having a 2nd lockdown and I've been feeling a bit under the weather too with just a buildup of work. I didn't and won't put out a chapter that is of disservice to you guys, so I've been writing bits day rewrote it and scanned it last night.. So to make up this will be a longer chapter than usual. *rant over*
> 
> Enjoy

The truck engine hummed the lone roads. Hailey enjoyed the breeze that combed through her blond locks and whispered in her ears. She didn't mind the awful taste of Troy's music taste blasting through the truck. She was going out on the run to do important work. Bundles of excitement and other nerve-wracking tingles that were nothing but positive to her coursed through her body. Having the feeling of being watched, Hailey glanced over her slim shoulder to see the curious eyes of her sister on the other side of the back seat, behind the passenger's seat Blake occupied. Cristine had her elbow propped on the edge of the fully opened window with the side of her face leaning against her hand. It was a penetrating stare that showed part amusement and part inquiry to tell what was on her mind. Hailey pulled her shoulders up in a nonchalant shrug and grinned. "Just happy to be part of all of this!" Hailey increased the volume of her voice because of the blasting music. Her locks brushed against her naturally flushed cheeks, and from the subtle corrections in her posture, she showed a certain temperament for what was to come. "Thanks for putting in a good word for me with the rest."

Cristine, her jaw went slack. She stared directly at Hailey; her sister's mood was even affecting her positively. Cristine didn't want to break it with the reality of what could happen, but she also didn't want Hailey to think it was all sunshine and flowers either. Just because she killed an infected didn't mean that she was invincible. None of them were, and so much was a risk now. Running a finger near the side of her lip, Cristine answered, "you earned it. Just don't let the excitement get ahead. Always keep your guard up and be prepared for anything. Also," Cristine slightly gestured at Blake and Troy in the front and jokingly stated, "one thing's for sure we're the smarts of this run."

"I  _ know _ we are." Entertained by the statement, Hailey agreed wholeheartedly with her sister and looked outside again with an easy smile.

After thirty minutes, the truck slowed significantly, and Troy lowered his music volume completely after Blake replaced his relaxed pose with a guarded one and straightened in his seat. His hand reached for his knife on reflex, "Troy infected straight ahead."

"Yeah. I got eyes on them." Troy looked in the rearview and saw that the rest of the vehicles were pulling over behind him. The hot tarmac appeared wet on the horizon from the harsh rays beating down on it. With his back on the dead shuffling about at the only point in the one-way road, Troy peeked down from the glass up to the high rocks, searching for anything out of place. When he was sure it wasn't free game for a potential ambush, Troy grabbed his Walky. "Coop, Steve, we got some dead ahead to clear out. While tempting to run them over so we can move our merry way, the road is too cramped to drive around them. Get out your silent weapons for this, and let's get a move on."

"Copy that."

Hearing the conversation, Hailey perked up in her seat and reached for the door, ready to get out too. Troy saw movement from the corner of his eye. He looked over his shoulder, quickly perusing the youngest Gerard sister in and, in a hasty tune, stopped her in her tracks when she was about to open the door. "Whoa, whoa, easy there. What are you doing?" Large blue eyes momentarily flutter in surprise before a light scrunch of her dark blonde eyebrows etched between the center to show her equal confusion.

"Getting a move on..." Hailey's eyes strayed from Troy to Cristine, who slid upright in her own swat and looked back at the militia leader. "That's what you said, right?" Hailey gestured at the walky-talky in Troy's hand to clarify his orders like he forgot what he just said. Hailey narrowed her eyes and felt her right eye twitch when Troy licked his lips in an attempt to push down the smirk at the edge of his lip. That patronizing gesture right there was a clear slight aimed at her.

"Yeah, I know what I said," Troy answered, his eyes on her were brief and unimpressed. Maybe Hailey was too sensitive or excited about being out and helping, but Troy was a snappy asshole.

"I'm glad you remember."

"Hailey-" Cristine began in an equally heavy voice that clearly indicated to drop it and not act petty about something that really wasn't that serious.

"No." Hailey shrugged her sister's outstretched from her shoulder and raised her chin with defiance that was a bit childish. "Just say what it is you want to say." Hailey's statement was unexpectedly bold and defensive, but surprisingly Troy wasn't the least irked by the younger adolescent. A scoff that was aggravating to her ears cut through the brief silence, and Hailey couldn't help but grind her teeth when she heard his response. 

"Your enthusiasm is noted, but the militia has this handled. Besides, we're responsible for keeping you ladies safe. Staying in the truck and locking those doors." Troy gestured at the back door with a slight tilt of his head to make his point. "That'll keep you safe."

"But we can he-"

"We'll wait in the truck," Cristine had enough of this petty back and forth. She leaned forward, pressing the side of her body against Hailey's, ignoring the stingy look of her sister, and added, "keep the doors locked and our eyes peeled." She sharply looked at Hailey the moment she heard the syllable of a rebuttal. Troy nodded, gave Hailey a final glance, and showed his trademark turtle face but kept his thoughts to himself. He'd be a liar if he openly admitted that he wanted to have Cristine on this trip. Two of their medics present was overkill, especially when Hailey was the least experienced out of everyone here. Calling her deadweight was the correct term and on his tongue, so when he heard Cristine, Troy left it be. Even if he wanted to say more and put the younger girl in her place instead of undermining him. If she planned to do it again, he wasn't going to hold his tongue and rip the bandaid off. Glancing between the two sisters, his gaze lingered on Cristine that bit more, and he flexes his lip before exiting the truck with Blake.

Reiterating her sister's words with a mixture of mocking disbelief, Hailey glared at Cristine, "keep the doors locked and our eyes peeled?" Scowling, Hailey searched for an answer that made sense for her taking Troy's side.

Ignoring the mock in Hailey's tone, Cristine pressed her back in her seat and sighed, exposing her weariness, and answered, "yeah. Why are you so eager to prove yourself? He needs to keep us safe, and that's what he's doing."

"Oh, please. Troy's purposely being patronizing. If it were only you, this wouldn't have even been a discussion. Don't deny that." Hailey scooted in her corner and glared outside. She grumbled, and the anger rolled from her body in waves. "No one thinks I can handle myself, and you're taking his side."

Cristine scoffed and shook her head at that ridiculous and childish claim. "Not even an hour in, and we're already arguing about you not being to take down some infected because you want to prove.... what exactly?" Cristine rubbed the side of her pierced earlobe and ran her fingertips along with the stub. "I convinced Troy to take you with us because it would be efficient given the size of this place. It'll be quicker to split up and find what we need. The least you can do is not act like a brat trust that he and the militia know what they're doing."

"I didn't ask you to beg him or daddy for that matter that I won't be a burden."

Cristine corrected her, "I didn't beg. I asked. What happened to 'being excited to be part of something good?'" She gestured at the scene in front of them where the militia was now taking down the dead one by one in a tactical manner. "I'm not asking for you to kiss anyone's ass. I wouldn't. What we're doing has risks. It's not a game Hailey. You saved me when the Ranch got attacked by the dead. If you weren't there, I might not have made it... but you've never seen what's out here... not really. I mean, you've heard me and the others talk about it, but unless you haven't experienced it or seen it yourself, you don't know."

Hailey rolled her eyes and began to shake her head. "Yes, just like I'm daily reminded that I'm nothing like my sister who doesn't need to be protected, isn't scared of shit, and killed people all while keeping secrets because she thinks she will better protect her baby sister that way."

"What's that supposed to mean?" There was an edge to Cristine's tone at the sharp accusations said by Hailey. Especially the last part left her totally off guard. When Hailey looked away without elaborating, Cristine ran her lip over the front of her teeth. She pushed down the foreign emotions of Mike and the Trimbols down. That was indeed a secret she would take with her to the grave, and at the time, she thought she cared less and less about it until Hailey commented this. Seeing that her younger sister wasn't going to answer and found the scenery more worth her attention, Cristine let it be. Hailey was safe. That was all that mattered, so if getting cussed and hated was one of the consequences of that, Cristine could walk around with ease. She went through worse things.

** BAM!  **

The siblings were shocked in their seats when a loud bang on the window started them from their secluded focus. Bewildered, Cristine ogled the stray dead that banged against the glass. It's dirt invested nails and bloodstained fingertips left behind dark brownish-red prints on her window. After a split second of surprise, Cristine exhaled a deep breath and rubbed the side of her face. She had gripped her gun positioned on her right hip in reflex. But she reached for her knife instead. Just as she was about to roll down the window, a distorted line of red splashed over the window, and Nick popped out to take down the dead. Feeling her lips twitch, Cristine rolled down the window and wrinkled her nose at the smell of rot. It was something she would never get used to. Not even after hiding between these same infected shells to make it through a horde. Looking down at the younger man patting the corpse, Cristine asked with a cocked eye, "need some help with that?"

Nick waved at her to reject her offer. "Nah, don't worry. I got it." Nick's sounded slightly out of breath and stopped checking the body for a while before looking up. His cheeks were flushed, and he beamed her a smile when faced with the questionable look of the female medic in her sharp and suspicious gaze. Nick rose and wiped the blood on his blade on his military pants. Kissing the back of his teeth, he angled his body on the side of the car. He explained his actions, "Troy's paranoid and makes us check the dead for the type of wounds on them... just a precaution to cross out suspicions."

"Like?" Hailey asked over Cristine's shoulder, and Nick shrugged with a light swing of his body.

"The freshness of a wound gives us an indication of how recently someone died. We cross out a bite pretty quickly. A bullet or sharp weapon is the most suspicious cause it usually means other people could be close. The dead could a distraction." The longer Nick talked and explained it to the two doctors, the crazier it sounded, but he wasn't going to make a fuss about it. It wasn't as crazy as flesh starving corpses roaming the world. "Like, I said Troy's a bit paranoid." 

"Hm," Cristine hummed and pushed down her smile, "you got tired of building houses?" Now it was Nick's turn to cock his eyes with puzzled curiosity at her question. "Weren't you and Jeremiah rebuilding the house near the old Adobe?"

"Yeah, well, old news. Besides, after everything, I felt that this would be the next best thing for me to do." Cristine didn't miss how Nick dismissed his and Jeremiah's bonding time. It didn't have anything to do with her, but there were faint traces of disappointment that lasted less than a few seconds. The same disappointment Jake and Troy often had for their father. 

"So, how are those jackasses treating you and the other recruits?" Cristine leaned her cheek against the inside of her palm. Nick snorted, but he shot a quick look to see if someone was listening before he stepped close near the window and told his complaints in a harried whisper. Cristine truly felt sorry for Nick and the ' fresh meat.'

"We're mostly cleaning up the mess they make. How did you survive them  _ and  _ Troy?"

"I'm smart," Cristine drawled in a lazy voice. A chuckle left her mouth when Nick forced some wide, puppy eyes that begged her for inside information on how to climb the rank of a group who were such testosterone and alpha-minded it left Nick a bit stunned the first he joined. Alicia had briefly mentioned Nick's high-school social relations being peculiar. She didn't elaborate much, but it was probably nothing like what he was used to before. Yes, the training could be hell, but this sick and sadistic glee Troy, Blake, Cooper, and a few of the more experienced militia members had when ordering their new comrades around and making them do the most tedious and worst jobs was disturbing. Cristine truly felt bad for them all.

Cristine shrugged her shoulders and cast a glance in the direction where the rest were now dragging the bodies away. Dumping them to clear a path on the road. "Don't force it or try too hard. They smell desperation from a mile and won't hesitate to make your life hell on purpose. I've been told that's how they show tough love."

"So I need to either accept their assholish ways until they've tortured me enough or follow your example and pick a fight and argue."

"As I said before, Nick, I'm smart. I can afford to pick a fight and argue. I'm usually right." 

"Stop flirting, Clark, and get a move on! Those dead won't drag themselves away!" 

-

The journey came in stages. It began with the eerie gravely roads and thinned out trees, then the tarmac surface of the interstate roads made the drive less bumpy. They passed many abandoned cars after almost three hours, but the number of dead wasn't as alarming.  _ "Probably migrated."  _ Cristine straightened in her seat, eyes flicking to the side mirror where she made brief eye contact with Troy with the focus of a hunter relentlessly searching for anything out of place whilst maneuvering the truck between a deserted graveyard of cars. Since they found this place, the road was familiar to Troy, and he didn't need a map to reach their destination. Still, observing the more suburban areas, the streaks of the apocalypse looming everywhere were apparent compared to the rural Ranch's safety. It was difficult threading through the abandoned wreckage and the scenery of doom and chaos everywhere.

"Everyone keep your eyes peeled for dead or alive." Blake radioed the others through the walkie-talkie and shifted in his seat. He gazes at the salmon-colored tauntingly standing in defiance in place of the people who fled a long while ago. The concrete infrastructures, while not as timeless as the mountains, would definitely outlast them by centuries. Hell, Blake wouldn't be surprised those large cities would become overgrown with shrubs like those ancient civilizations before the industrial and technological revolution. The arcing rays of the sun glared down on the heated steel of the cars.

Hailey gulped down some water from her flask. Her mouth and throat felt unnaturally dry as her heart pound up her throat. This was intense. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, and it was abandoned, yet the rest were all on edge, and in a way, she too. It was her first time out on a run, but her excitement had withered. They passed deserted buildings, some had their doors kicked in, or their windows were broken. Clothing sprawled over the tarmac with the mangled and dried up corpses inside the cars and on the road. Small local stores were looted. It was awful to witness, and nausea overwhelmed her stomach.

The truck rounded another intersection, and they rolled through the streets in a slow drive. Meanwhile, Blake kept looking up and down the campus map and the road, giving Troy instructions on where to go. "The Pharmacy and Surgical buildings are here and here."

"We should go to the pharmacy first. We'll find all the equipment and formulas there." Cristine slid forward and looked over Blake's shoulders, zeroing on the map. "How far is it?"

"Not far. A few minutes. We only scouted the surrounding area before we drew the dead away. They were holed up here like a bunch of guard dogs. Drew 'em out with some car radios we turned on a few miles away from here. Came back a few days after, and most of the dead around here gone."

"Smart," Cristine was impressed by the simple ingenuity without them having to break much of a sweat.

Troy perked slightly in his seat, and he turned the wheel and drove through the gates leading to the parking lot of the main entrance where the bloody sign read 'San Diego Medical Institute.' "We still need to do a sweep inside. Make sure they're clear. We're already running late because of our little stop on the road." Troy gazed at his watch, and for a moment, Troy felt a bizarre mixture of impatience, wariness, annoyance, and seriousness all in one.

By mid-afternoon, after finding the pharmacy building, they parked their vehicles in the parking lot. Cristine raised her head to gaze at the horizon before drinking in the sight of the steel building's sleek design. The rays' reflection harshly bounces off the ugly discord structure with the withered flowerbed planted as decoration. It reminded her of her university when she was just in the first year of her residency program. The shuffling of the others was background noise, and nostalgia squeezed her gut. Things like this were of the past and part of a normal that wasn't so normal anymore. Cristine still smiled to herself and remembered the crowded campus as they harried to their next class or just enjoyed a free hour with their peers. Sighing, Cristine heard footsteps draw close, and Troy stepped in line next to her, also gawking at the pharmacy building meant for students and professionals alike. 

"We go in from the front and check the emergency building plans to locate the rooms we need to go to first before we do a sweep protocol. We split into groups of two and come back after we find everything." Hearing his summary of his plan, Cristine nodded before she looked back, looking for Hailey. She relaxed once she found her sister helping Nick with siphoning gas from the other vehicles nearby. Brushing a stray curl from her forehead, Cristine apologized to Troy on behalf of Hailey. He was fumbling with his watch, his attention divided between the conversation, the time, and the rest of the group, "she's excited and wants to prove herself, I get it. But it doesn't help her if she questions my orders or talks back to me as she did. There needs to be order and chain of command." Cristine could read between the lines of Troy's words. He was telling her this out of respect as Hailey was her sister. If it were anyone else, he wouldn't have been this lenient or this calm for being talked back to like that and having his authority and decision undermined. For Cristine, it showed his growth and consideration for her as well, even if he didn't say it out loud.

"I get that, but I also get where she's coming from." Cristine sighed, "Hailey thinks I had to beg you and my dad to let her come on this run. She has this idea people are comparing the two of us, so she wants to prove she can do what everyone else can."

"I don't blame her. No one wants to be called a deadweight or seen as a burden." Troy raised his arm when Cristine glowered at him with judging eyes, "Hey, I'm not going to sugarcoat the facts. Your sister's killed like, what, one infected? That doesn't outweigh the experience the rest of us have. The militia goes out every day. I know what we need to do, how to do it, and that always get it done." After Troy finished his soliloquy that was both him boosting his ego and another indirect jab at Hailey's impiety of his leadership, and he reiterated in a mock tone that was meant to annoy Cristine, "you did kinda beg me to make an exception."

"Yeah, you keep believing that obvious lie." His comment made Cristine roll her eyes, but the tense and uncomfortable feeling of before halved. The last thing she wanted was having to pick sides between Hailey and Troy. Her baby sister had the same stubborn attitude as her, even if it was simply to make her case. It didn't have anything to do with Troy, but more with Hailey having this assumption that others were comparing them in the militia. It was her first time setting foot outside, and so some might feel there was preferential treatment. Still, it didn't mean Cristine would allow anyone to bully Hailey, even if it was Troy making sly digs. Those same digs usually turned to full-blown arguments, and they didn't have time for internal strife.

Troy soon announced to set assemble for their first sweep of the pharmacy building. After banging on the front door, two people oversaw either side of the double doors that got pulled ajar. Troy stood at the center with his machete raised and peered inside. He banged the end of his machete's handle on the brazen door again and waited. After a while, a faint series of noises and shuffling yanked his attention, and he stepped back to wait for the slow-paced infected to take the bait. It was just one; a wandering woman who dully tried to squeeze through the tight, regulated space of the slightly open doors. Troy easily knocks out her light by quickly slashing a furrow through her skull, and the corpse dropped with a wet sound. The incessant snarls stopped, and Troy peered back inside, looking around the dimmed but not completely dark entrance on the ground floor. "Alright, we're good for now. Let's make a sweep and make sure it's safe." Two-third of the group quickly trickles inside, back to back, most with their makeshift mid-range weapons and a few with their riffles out with silencers to dampen the sound just in case. Circling the oval-shaped reception with silent and purposeful steps, they make a thorough inspection, the sound of their boots minimal.

The ground floor gave them a preview of what they could probably expect of the other floors and buildings. Battle-scarred, the power out, papers everywhere with decaying bodies melted on the ground, dried blood and bullet: the same stuffy and familiar smell of blood and rot waft through the badly filtered air. "Jesus," Nick heard Hailey whisper under her breath, and he noted her ashen face. Slowing down slightly in his light steps, he asked her a silent question if she was alright with a tilt of his head, and Hailey pulled up her noise, voice soft, but heavy with staggering emotions, "I knew it was bad, but never imagined it like this. I can't believe this is how the whole country- the whole world probably is. How do you get used to it?"

"First time's always overwhelming," Nick answered, voice deliberately cool to alleviate some of Hailey's worries, "I don't think you'll ever get used to it. I haven't, really. But somewhere you accept this is how it is now, and we're lucky to live in a well-prepared community."

Hailey thought about what Nick said, pressed her lips together, and tried to compartmentalize the words to put it into something that made sense to her. She really underestimated what the outside really entailed. So much was deserted, abandoned, and empty. Filled with the scars of the dead that overwhelmed them in sheer number alone. Broke Jaw Ranch was secluded from the cities, where the infection struck hardest. The next logical thing was to move to the rural areas, areas where their community was living, not just surviving. Families could enjoy each other's company. Children could play and not worry because of the militia. Their more vulnerable ones often remarked that the militia did what not everyone could; protect them. Hailey's baby blue eyes trailed in the direction of Cristine, chest tightening when she saw her sister skulking vigilantly with Troy and surveyed the elevated floors that climbed up a few levels. Cristine looked so in place, communicating in the occasional whisper and the militia's hand signals and nods - hyper cognizant of when to retreat, back the other up, and just fall in place like a well-oiled machine.

"Is it bad that I kind of regret coming?" Hailey hadn't realized the question left her mouth until Nick answered.

"Why? Cause Troy's being a douche about you being here and the others licking his boots?" Nick followed Hailey's line of sight and chuckled when his age companion clenched her jaw. She didn't deny or affirm his statement, but Nick had been pretty observant. This restrained mood in the group in preparation for this particular when it was known  _ two  _ of their medics would join on this mission, particularly the youngest Gerard sister. People had mixed feelings about it, but it was decided. "Everyone has to start somewhere, and this is your starting point. I mean, even your sister started somewhere."

"Cristine's been out since the start and has the experience from the get-go. She isn't afraid of anything. Like you."

"That's bullshit." The casualness of Nick debunking Hailey's baseless statement. "I've had times where I thought I would die, and yeah, I adapted and all that, but the times I was afraid far outweighed my brave ones. Afraid of not ever seeing my mom and sister again because of every small thing. It makes you appreciate what you still have, which is more than most. It's better than being fearless or reckless because that means you have nothing to lose. You think about yourself and do things for your own benefit."

"Here is where they'll keep most of the inventory." They found a floor plan of the building behind the counter of the reception. Cristine held the pamphlet and planned side by side, and began to mark the rooms they had to sweep. "The lab department is where some of the equipment will be. They're not that far separated from each other, so it shouldn't take long to take what we need and even make an attempt for the surgical building." Cristine looked in Troy's direction, making eye contact in question if what she claimed was correct. The plan was to be back on the road before the sun setting so they could be back home the same day. So when Troy nodded back to confirm her option, Cristine was more than relieved.

"Alright, we split up into groups of two. Everyone's got a copy of the list," Troy looked up at the circling floor levels that arched up until the top of the closed-off ceiling. "We circle back when here when we're done. Make sure to keep your radios on. Stay sharp." Troy emphasized the last two words, making eye contact with each of his men before splitting the group in half, with one group going for the inventory which Hailey belonged to and the other headed for the lab department which Cristine was a part of.

Feeling Cristine's perusing eyes on her in an elevator-like motion, Hailey straightened. The weight of her gun and knife and felt heavy on her body. Feeling self-conscious that they were going to be temporarily separated made her heart thump that bit faster. Still, she swallowed those emotions down as best as she could when Cristine drew close, pulled her towards her, and with a critical eye and even quicker hands, tightened whatever piece of clothing she found too loose for her taste. Hailey was a bit embarrassed and grunted, but the patting motion did help to ease some of her nerves.

"Be safe," Hailey blinked at the dark brown eyes mixed with slithers of concern, anxiety, and Hailey dare say trust? She hadn't expected that from Cristine, but she made a sound at the back of her throat. The frown between Cristine's brows softened some levels when she squeezed her shoulders and repeated the repeated instructions daily. "Silent weapons for the dead only. Aim for the places of the head that are soft." Cristine nodded, and with it, the grip on her shoulder relaxed just that little bit, and that small shift alone dropped Hailey's anxiety.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts?


	66. Chapter 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays. Stay safe and hope you all can enjoy these odd times with loved ones.
> 
> Enjoy the next chapter

Blood-smeared walls with bullet-ridden holes are more evident on the other floors. The scenery wasn't that different from the previous halls they passed. It didn't smell right, but nothing did these days—the rhythmic bounce of their shoes and rifles vociferous. So now and then, there was a stray dead that dragged its way to them and was dealt with a swift blow. Even the ones that were stuck were killed, and the halls birthed a steep silence again. "This is it," Troy whisper-yelled before he raised his hand and gestured at the unlighted sign that belonged to the locked laboratory room. Thick chains and a padlock held the door together, alerting them that whatever was behind these doors was either thought to be valuable or an intentional deed to keep the living safe. Clenching his machete, Troy did a quick cursive glance to his squad before he knocked on the hilt on the door to draw out anything moving, whether dead or alive, from the other side.

A minute passed, and it was still quiet.

Weapons on standby, Troy gesticulated with a swift hand signal and slid his rifle to the front of his body, sheathing his weapon when the bolt cutters got taken out to cut through the firm, silvery chains. The rest mirrored his actions before entering into a tactical position at either side of the door. Nick was the one who cut through the padlock and jerked the chain link from the door. The tension was as tight as a tautly pulled string the moment the door was pushed open, and an overwhelming stench of rotten meat hit their noses. Someone exclaimed in a dry, heaving voice, "Jesus! That smell!" Cristine stood furthest away, but even she had to push back her gag reflexes and covered her nose and mouth from the odor. When the first two went inside with their rifles raised, Nick flicked the light switch. Surprisingly a faint fluorescent lamp flickered on. With her forearm pressed against the lower half of her face, Cristine entered. Inside the room, the putrid smell of mildew mixture of rotting flesh and rot - human waste, meat, and other excretions-was dumped here. It immediately put everyone's guards up.

Cristine ground her teeth through her watery eyes and glared at mounted body bags that covered almost half the laboratory room, which wasn't even that spacious in the first place. "The hell…" Someone muttered confusingly at the corpses and slightly lowered his rifle. Every place had its own story that ultimately sounded all the same—the beginning stages of the apocalypse with many people who had died. Hospitals were one of the first places that were hit. Whether by the dead or living, they quickly transformed into graveyards. Like many others, it was a story; bloodshed and carnage and a little mystery of the lives that had ended. "Why'd they store the dead here?" Nick voiced everyone's curious wonder.

"Barely any electricity. They probably didn't think they would use the lab anymore, so it's as good a place to dump the corpses as any," Troy mused, unfazed by the scenery and looked away from the pile of dead. He flicked his flashlight in the laboratory's open space, and the group began to check the ample room. A lot of the machinery and furniture built in and useless to them. The room had as much personality as the rest of the abandoned hospital. Some commercial prints on the wall were entirely shot, but the paper's quality had faded dully. With a trench club and flashlight in hand, Cristine looked around. The group began to check the stainless workbenches, all the cabinets, drawers, storage lockers, and other furniture with hidden compartments and equipment that might be what they were looking for. Finally, Cristine found one of the manual tablet press machines. It was a perfect size. This tablet press's appeal was in its versatility, ease, and high quality features to process future pills. It was flexible, and the speed top-notch. Her expression brightened several shades and called for the others. "There should be two more around this size. My guess is the inventory might have spare parts."

"Alright, let's find the other two, take what we need, and load these back in the trucks." Troy nodded, at ease with how swift this sweep went. "We'll radio Blake and the others and help them after." With three tablet making machines, Cristine and the group also found other discoveries and more. A portable fridge, a scale for measurement, a few prepackaged expedients, two autoclaves for sterilizing medical supplies, and came with an external heater, a water distiller, and two centrifuges. It was the basis and more to set up a decent working shop. There were also manuals lying around, and Cristine stuffed them in her backpack. She relaxed and thought of all the uses and ease it would bring for their infirmary and the people on the Ranch and couldn't help but briefly smile to herself. While she was in thought, all at once, she hears a dull sounding pitch coming from outside that instantly made her and everyone else tense. The sound came from outside and sounded far away, but yet so close on the campus grounds.

"Coop, what the hell is going on out there!?" Troy radioed Cooper's group standing watch outside, but there was no response. Instead, through the blaring alarm, soft pops were heard. Troy dashed to the windows to look out onto the space where their cars were parked, and his body shook in rage. Below he saw his militia engaging with a group of the dead that only grew in numbers. Cussing under his breath, Troy turned to the rest, glowered, and calling in the others from his walkie-talkie. "Blake, Cooper, and his guys are engaging with the wasted. Pack whatever you can and meet us back down at the entrance. It seems we overstayed our welcome."

Ten minutes later, with the scavenged equipment in tow, Troy and his group regrouped with the rest on the ground floor. Cristine automatically stepped in Hailey's direction, and her little sister just gave her a tight-lipped nod that she was fine in return. The alarm was still blaring outside, and Cooper and his men were forced into the building and had barricaded the doors. The chorus of the aggressive dead snarling and banging incessantly against the outsides. The atonal moaning of the undead drifted through the wind and mixed with the sound carried over the building's tops. building an angry breath, Troy swiveled in Cooper's direction. "What the hell happened?"

"Don't know. The alarm suddenly went off, we wanted to check, but there were already too many dead headed our way in droves." Cooper shook his head, his expression equally darkened. He voiced the suspicions of their most experienced, "this doesn't make sense unless someone must've set it when we got in... might still be here is my guess."

"We don't know that," Blake added, mindful not to spook the first-timers too much.

Cooper scoffed, "well, it's mighty convenient the moment we're doing a sweep of this place, the alarm goes off, and we're flanked by the dead. And it's only going to attract more of 'em. We're sitting ducks."

"What about the emergency exits?" Nick offered, his tone questioning, and Troy already took out the floor plan and spread in on the reception counter. He started to count all the exit points of the building they were in a while listening to Nick. "See if there's a way around, turn off the alarm and wait it out." Troy cocks his head and thought carefully. It was a pretty solid idea, but how would they go through the dead without getting noticed? From the six exit points, two were blocked by the dead.

"Even if we use the exit points and one of us makes it to the other building by some miracle. You'll still need to pass the wasted, go through the parking lot and that building," Blake commented.

As if he'd been asked to put on his shoes, Nick's easy answer surprised everyone, and Troy glanced at the younger man with keen interest. "I'll walk with the dead as one of them. I've done it plenty of times before." It had been a while since he'd covered himself in the dead's scent and walked with them.

"What? How?" Hailey confusedly looked at Cristine, wondering if what Nick said was even possible, who narrowed her gaze and glanced back at Nick with skeptical wonder.

"Camouflage yourself with their scent," Troy remarked. It made him think of when he and the others did that same thing but hid between a pile of wasted instead. He looked in Cristine's direction in silent wonder. She did a brief nod to affirm that what Nick said was indeed the same concept of what they had done. They just played possum, and Nick's solution was more extreme and risky. Troy never thought of covering themselves in that blood and walk among the dead, but it made sense. Nick's ingenuity surprised him. Him volunteering and admitted to having done it often even more.

"Nick, that's insane. What if something happens?" Hailey furrowed her brows together in concern for her friend's safety and protested this crazy idea. There had to be an alternative to this.

"Nothing will happen," Nick answered, but there was still a unanimous, so he added and looked at Troy, the one who was going to make this call. The tall, wavy-haired brunette was thinking over his suggestion. Pondering the pros and cons so Nick added, "listen, we can't leave the equipment or supplies here. I know what I'll be doing."

"That's all good and well, but Cooper made a solid point. It's suspicious this alarm went off when everything was fine and dandy when we cleared the place a few days ago. Maybe whoever did this is still in the main building. We don't know if it's a crackhead scavenger or an organized group waiting to ambush us… snipe us if we try to get out." There were just a lot of inconsistencies. But Troy was going to do something he didn't often do. He was going to take this high risk and trust Nick. Because this was the only plan that had a chance of working, he quickly glanced in the direction of the two sisters again and nodded, having made his decision. "We can't go with the whole group. Too much of a risk for us all to go. It'll shrink the chances of keeping us and our medics safe. But, I'm not going to let you go out there alone either, Clark…." Troy glanced at his soldiers, raised his chin, and in a severe tone, said, "I'm going to need volunteers."

-

Hailey winced when she heard the wet thwack of another blade on the other side of the room, smashing through the flesh of bones and guts, into what was once the shell of a living person, through the layers of intestines, and into the blackened pulp of decayed intestines. The smacking noise was like a bat hitting a wet ball. The worst was that the moist and wet sounds were repetitive. Hailey stifles a cough, trying to focus on catching her breath and turning away from the body's fierce sounds getting mutilated. "I'm fine." Feeling the continuous rub on the center from her back, Hailey reassures Cristine in their personal corner with a wave. "You think Nick's plan will work?" Eyes blinking up at her sibling, witnessing the tensing and relaxing of her humorless expression, Cristine licked her lips before she let out a tense sigh.

"Well, he says he's done it before, so we should trust that. Besides, I know for a fact that the dead don't attack what smells or acts like them."

"How so?"

Cristine nodded, visibly grimacing at the many times she had to hide and explained. "I hid from large groups wherever I could. The human olfactory system isn't strong enough to detect people just on smell, even when alive. We're not dogs. Hiding would be useless too." She gestured at the stray dead the militia was slicing and cutting up to mask Nick and Blake when going outside. Hailey swallowed the sour taste back down. "An infected its insides and neurons are already in a state of permanent decay."

Hailey let Cristine's explanation sink and formulated it in a way that made sense to her. "So even though their smell is a lot poorer than ours, they still react to things that are out of place and different from them. Did you figure stuff like that when you were outside… before you found the Ranch?"

"A bit before and after." Hailey nodded when hearing her answer and didn't ask more. Cristine glanced over her shoulder. The chopping of body parts and guts was done. Now the messy and hurling part began where a few sunk needed to taint their hands with the human remains and smear it on both Nick and Blake, who'd been the one to volunteer. Cristine lightly quirked her lips and answered Hailey's initial question about Alicia's older brother. "But I think Nick can do it. The others seem to trust his judgment. He's an insane genius in his own way."

Another sickening crack echoed through the room.

"Alright, now I need to hurl," on cue, Hailey fell to her knees, hunched forward, and vomited in the corner of the room. It forced itself out of her mouth. Cristine grabbed a bottle of water and patiently waited for Hailey to let it all out. Her sister was paler than a sheet, her body quivered, and her face was lathered in sweat. Cristine had seen it all, so she wasn't fazed. She gently rubbed the back of her sister's neck in a soothing motion. Hailey dry heaved until nothing flowed from her gut and gratefully took the water and began to down it.

"-them luck."

"What?"

Hailey wiped her mouth with her jacket's sleeve and repeated, "Nick and Blake. We should wish them luck."

-

Leery thoughts hummed through Cristine's skull over on their current predicament. This was all too perfectly timed. Calculated. Someone knew they were going to be here today, at this exact time, to trap them in here. Her suspicions immediately lapsed to the Nation. To Walker. What if they had bid their time for this moment? What if they had been spying on them? But how? Troy had been pretty strict who handled certain security shifts and runs. Cristine would even go as far as say he had been paranoid about everything and anything. From a heap of dirt that had shifted from its position or unevenly cut grass. Cristine didn't believe he had overlooked something or if the Nation had just been that good at watching them and hiding their tracks. The only thing would be if one of their more recent community members they'd taken in were-.

"We should check the other rooms for anything worthwhile." Breaking her painful thoughts that began to spin and weave all types of scenarios that this might've been premeditated, Cristine turned halfway around to face Troy. He blinked, expression cool and piercing eyes looking her up and down before he arched his brow. "We have radio silence until we hear something from Nick and Blake. Think its best to do a sweep just in case." Cristine nodded. It wouldn't do her any good to brood about that now. They had to wait for the others anyway. Searching for her sister, Cristine felt her brows furl together when she didn't see Hailey and opened her mouth, only to be cut off by Troy. "A few are checking the other floors. Hailey's combing the rest of the inventory with Coop and four more. She's in good hands." _You're with me._ That was the message he conveyed, and Cristine followed Troy with tightening eyes when he headed for the stairs without waiting for a reply. After a few reluctant seconds, she stepped in line with his pace up the staircase. The sound of their shoes beat from the floor, bounced from the walls, and was the only thing resounding between them for a bit when checking office from office. Beams of flashlights carefully scanned the dark corners and crevices of each place they visited.

By the fourth room, as she began rummaging through the cabinets for anything worth their effort and to keep her mind off of things, Troy finally broke the silence with some rustling paper and said, "Hey, come look at this." Cristine stepped next to where Troy stood, reading documents of sort. After he handed her one of the sheets, Cristine's eyes skimmed over the file, and an exciting glow settled within her irises, and she grabbed the rest of the papers from his hands. Simultaneously, a breathless sound escaped her mouth that revealed hopefulness, and Cristine nodded in satisfaction at the find. Troy was slightly taken aback when those dark eyes raised and exhibited a rare cheerfulness, and Troy's lip faintly raised near the corners. He absently tapped his finger on top of the table and glanced at the messy papers. "I take it's something that might come in handy?"

Cristine cocked her brow and waved the stack of papers around, expression one of gratitude mixed with shocked disbelief when hearing Troy's inquiry. "That's an understatement. These stamps mean these were officially approved by the government and safe for public use. With these formulas, we can produce our medicines without worrying about the wrong ingredients or measurements. The portable equipment goes perfectly with it."

"We finally seem to have a bit of good fortune on our side," Troy trailed off before he looked in the direction of the windows where the noisy amassed dead were heard. His jaw set and his eyes chilled when an oppressive silence filled the room, as silent as the rowdy snarls and bangs could be filtered out by the building walls. He heard the rustling of the papers and looked from the corners of his eyes to see Cristine sweep the table clean and dump it all inside her bag. Troy walked to the window and, like a foreman, gazed at the slow-moving figurines with dull grey skin in their equally washed out and bleached clothing from the erosion of nature. Luckily, they were all alive, but Troy wondered about the what-ifs and the duo they put their hopes in. If neither Blake nor Nick called within an hour, they would be forced to leave the equipment here, leave their vehicles even and survive. "We should have rechecked the buildings."

Cristine rebuked him. "How were we supposed to know this place had an alarm that could call in every infected from a mile away? It's not on you." 

Troy shook his head, nostrils twitching together with the tick of his pulled up mouth, threatening to pull up into a full-blown sneer. But he twisted the lid from letting his rousing anger spill. "Doesn't mean much when I'm the one responsible in the end. I knew I shouldn't have left scouting to the newbies who wanted to prove themselves. I made that call, and now it put all of us- _you_ at risk-" 

"Hey." Troy sighed through his frustration and got cut off when a firm hand palmed the side of his neck. The touch was warm, and with some silent beckoning, he tore his eyes from the scenery of infected and stared at a mellow and calm looking Cristine. Her eyes moved back and forth between his focused stare layered with self-deprecating anger and oversight that got them in this pickle. Cristine's gaze considerably softened, but also telling him that he needed to listen, and said in a neutral voice, "since when does anything go as planned? You, out of everyone, know that you need to adapt to every little thing. Not everyone can do that. You can, and it's one of the reasons the others follow you. It's one of the reasons why we're still alive. If it weren't for this alarm, it would have been something else, Troy." While Cristine her words were meant to be reassuring, Troy couldn't help but still feel uneasy. This was his mission with two of their medics out because they didn't know all their shit. If they lost either of the two... Troy didn't finish that line of thinking when looking at Cristine, his chest itching irritably at the thought of something happening to her. As capable as she was and could handle herself perfectly, the idea that something could go wrong made the roiling darkness in him stir. When the hell had he become this… sentimental?

Troy answered severely, pointing out the worst-case scenario, "yeah, well, if one of you dies, that's on me. Either way, someone is going to pay for-"

Cristine scoffed, "don't get all sentimental on me nature, boy. Hailey is with Coop, and you're with me. Blake and Nick are handling things outside. I think we got the best of the best. And we can handle ourselves just fine. This isn't worth losing your anger over, and there's no need to beat anyone's ass either." Troy exhaled, a bit distracted by the faint stroke of her thumb near the side of his pulse, moving up and down and brushing at the tip of his earlobe. It was a new normal that Cristine was able to sway him from his roused feelings like this. Troy didn't know when it started or where touch calmed him, but he didn't dislike it. It was something the two of them did in private, during occasions fused with a vulnerability that sometimes meant so much more than words. When it was just the two of them, they moved past the silent eye contact. When he felt the grip on his neck loosen, Troy's hand moved, and he gripped her forearm, making sure Cristine kept it there for a while longer and stared down at her with intense and brooding eyes. Cristine relaxed as Troy silently pressured her to stay as they were for a bit longer. His responses to her advances were hurtful at the start when he all but tensed and looked confused. He's speechless and him ogling her as if observing a rare specimen performing a trick was unnerving too. Cristine counted on her fingers how often Troy initiated.

However, when it came to something as simple as a touch, Troy was a little overbearing. Just a hand on top of his or them in proximity seemed to ignite a type of flame in him. Like he needed to catch up to something, he never had the luxury of ever experiencing in his life. He probably hadn't with his dysfunctional household. Cristine understood that. A parents' touch was vital to one's development, mentally, physically, and socially. Despite all the neglect, Cristine had her father during most of her childhood, even though all the abuse. Troy only had Jake, and sibling love wasn't the same as parental one. So far, Troy was always firm with her. It felt like he almost didn't want her to let go. So Cristine gave him the final decision to end it, and that type of trust was a different sort. Watching Troy, Cristine's stomach twisted some as he urged her to stay as they were a bit longer because then it was him who made the final move. Feeling a warm itch under her skin when Troy stared down at her as if she was the only thing that existed at the moment and didn't even realize it. "You good?" She asked in a low whisper and felt his palm and fingers roll her muscles and bones.

"You?"

"I'm good." Cristine nodded with a slight smile when she felt him relax. Troy was absorbed by watching and gave her the freedom to take back her hand. She puffed out through her pursed lips to blow out the breath she didn't know she held in. She felt like a teen around her first crush again, and Cristine looked elsewhere. _"Jesus. Get a grip!"_ She coughed and returned to her previous disposition.

"You think it's Walker?" Temper evened out, and Troy asked her the question that had been on all of their minds. Leaning against the windowsill, hands resting at either side of his hips, he listened to Cristine's judgment of their predicament. This was iffy and didn't make sense.

"I don't know." Cristine squeezed her hand that was still warm from Troy's touch. Her expression turned grim, and a tense sigh escaped her lips. "I know I don't trust it… it just doesn't feel right. It could be… or could be something else. Someone else…" Cristine trailed off, biting her lip. The idea of them having a traitor in their midst made more sense than Walker. Or maybe they just had bad luck and this was a slip up. But telling Troy the latter part would send him in a frenzy again so she wouldn't share that possibility without evidence. "The place is surrounded by the dead now. Even if this is someone who's planning to take our stuff… they're trapped too. I mean, let's say that alarm gets switched off. We'll still have to wait for the dead to be distracted by something else."

That was something Troy could agree with, and he clenched his flashlight in his hand and said. "Well, whoever this is or isn't, they'll show their asses eventually. Maybe it's nothing. We're armed and equipped to handle it. We have food to last us." Cristine joined Troy near the window, oppositely as him and facing the dead. Gazing through the thick glass at the growing number of the shuffling infected, moving back and forth. The alarm was still blaring, and in the distance of the expanded campus, ground dead kept trickling in.

"Let's just hope Blake and Nick make it back." If they didn't hear anything from the two within the hour, they all had to go out by themselves with the same tactic. Get the hell out of here and leave everything behind. Moving her slack jaw from side to side, Cristine exhaled deeply to dissolve some of her anxiety. Troy's sudden short chuckle made her look in his direction with silent wonder. His head was hunched down, eyes focused on his fumbling fingers, and his mouth, slightly parted, relaxed. Watching his slanted profile, Cristine lightly tapped her finger on the windowsill, waiting for him to say his piece of mind. Her eyes lingered on his neatly trimmed beard and shifting jawline and unblinking eyes. Troy was deep in thought, and he sounded faraway when he finally spoke.

"When the apocalypse started, and communication lines were still up, I listened to most of the news reports and broadcasts. There were random cases of a disease spreading in the big cities even past the border, and before we knew it, the dead began to rise. The Ranch was well-prepared for the end of the world, but we'd never thought the dead would rise. I mean, we're still fortifying the place because it's not designed to keep out the dead. It was like nature gave us all a big fuck you, defended itself from the centuries of damage done by us and turns us into cannibalizing corpses. Kind of ironic that whether we live or die, nature is still the winner. The thing is, I wasn't even freaked out when it all happened. I was more weirded out by no one else seeing it coming. The end of the world as we knew it, and people still ignored it. Sometimes, I wonder why." Feeling his throat dry up, Troy shook his head with surprising fascination at those clear signs around them every day. He said at nothing for a while, deep in his own mystified thoughts, eyes fathom deep. Then- he snapped from that random reverie, and feeling the stare on his face, Troy shifted on his legs and straightened before making eye contact with Cristine. She had been watching and listening to him. Her gaze was calm, perusing, and it felt as if Cristine was trying to convey some type of understanding even if she couldn't fully comprehend his point of view. Not really. They were raised too differently. But Cristine attempting to remain non-judgmental was enough.

Cristine sucked in her lower lips and wet them and, with relaxing movements, answered, "I think it's because people hold onto things that still make sense to them. It's why we cherish our memories because even when everything around us changes, memories don't." Those things were constant and comfortable. She was like that, too, at the start. Sometimes she still reminisced, but growing used to a new reality came with a new outlook on things and people.

Troy pointed outside with a sideward movement of his head and asked, "you think that's what ultimately makes them turn up like that."

"Could've been a lot of things, but the majority might have, yeah. It's not that different from what we're fighting for now. The Ranch, our family, and friends. The people we care about." At that final comment, it was Troy's turn to ogle Cristine with scrutinizing eyes. If it were before, he was sure she'd tighten her gaze in reflex, but the Cristine who could compartmentalize her emotions on command showed him a lot. It was a look of someone weaving a connection with shifting boundaries. It wasn't hasty. It was careful in that everything explored was done at a comfortable, but still nerve-wracking pace. Neither shied away from that. Gone was the militant air for a moment and got replaced by a mutual understanding. Troy selfishly wanted more of that, drew closer, and opened his mouth. 

"Cristine -"

A voice from his walkie interrupts Troy's litany, "Troy, Nick, and I got in the main building."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are enjoying everything so far. Especially the Troy x Cristine moments and their thoughts. Just writing their private interactions just gives me a lot of energy. 
> 
> I've noticed I've been really stepping out of my comfort zone in this story now that I'm writing totally no-canon stuff. I think that's also one of the reason's why my last chapter took so long. I had a general idea of how I want certain scenes (some prewritten and others are a literal sentence) and plots to go. But when I put it on paper, I find myself staring at a blank screen for hours, shut down my computer and feel bad because I want to consistently post (and write) weekly chapters for this story and haven't been able to do that lately. It's just so draining and I don't want to put pressure on myself, but I enjoy writing and not being able to do that just sucks. So I've been spreading my writing out throughout the whole week instead of cramping it all out in like 1-2 days, reread, reedit and post it. That's been working out great for this chapter (rewatching apocalypse shows and (f)twd too) and it resulted in a chapter double the size of what I usually write. I think I'll keep doing that and try to go for longer chapters too! 
> 
> Also, I have a week long break, so I'm not sure if I can or will update since I will be with my family during the holidays/new year and doing a lot of New Year cleaning.


	67. Chapter 67

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last day of the year everyone! Happy New Year for my readers who are already counted down.  
Still four hours to go for me!

"Blake? Blake? You there?" Troy glared through the glass window, waiting for a reply from the other side of the line. Crackling silence was the answer. Troy's eyes narrowed. "Talk to me, Blakey. Don't go silent on me now." He chewed on his lips aggressively and gave it some more time. Then-

"Sorry, we were in a bit of a pinch." Visibly relaxing when Blake answered through a blaring noise in the background, though, Troy shared a placated stare with Cristine and looked between the mass of dead walking down again. To think they made it through that, unharmed, a laugh of disbelief vibrated from his throat. Nick was one crazy genius. "We got in. The doors were locked, but we managed to get in through one of the broken windows."

Troy thumbed the walkie-talkie. The news seemed to have put some color back in his cheeks and, with a nod, told Blake next, "okay, you'll need to head to the basement. It's where'll you'll find the backup generator. Shutting the emergency power-down will disable the alarm. The rest of us are doing a final sweep of the place. Make sure to keep your eyes peeled for hostile raiders. This might be part of their plan." Troy's vision wandered down below again before it traveled to the building where the alarm was still blaring like a lunch bell summoning all the infected from miles. Whoever had done this was crazy, and that was saying something. But in this madness, Troy could detect the traces of a deliberately planned scheme. He just had this instinctual feeling there was more to this, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Got it. We'll keep you updated." Blake ended the communication.

"What're you thinking?" Cristine perceived the shift in Troy's vigilant attitude. He clipped his walkie around the belt of his pants and shook his head, face scrunched heavily.

"This doesn't make sense. Why trap yourself between the dead too for supplies? They are either desperate that deluded, or, as sure as I'm standing here, convinced their plan is that foolproof." Troy didn't believe in luck. Not after everything they've been through and had to sacrifice for the Ranch until now. To believe in luck or the kindness of people. Such things had never existed in Troy's mind. There was an angle in everything, whether positive or negative. As menial, everything had a cause and effect. Troy finally looked away from the scenery below at Cristine.

Cristine cocked her head and crossed her arms over her chest. She had a thoughtful look, filtering Troy's remarks and finding the irony in this particular tactic. "Using the dead to do the hard work. Wouldn't be the first time we had to deal with people like that, right?" She referenced to Ben and what had happened what felt a long time ago now. Troy nodded, but she could still see the skepticism on his face. The same feeling as her nerves just warning her there was more to this. "We have the supplies and equipment we came for. Our rides aren't that far away from here. Maybe they know a way out of this?" Cristine straightened her body, her thoughts immediately going back to the traitor's possibility and someone perhaps backtracking intel.

"No way to know for sure. The best thing to do is to circle back and stick together until we hear from Blake and Nick."

-

Sitting by herself, Hailey was mindlessly fumbling with her knife. The groans and banging near the entrance door reminded her of those horror movies she never could finish watching. She always crawled in her Cristine's bed after. A smile flickered on her lips. Her sister would whine about it, but she never denied or told her to leave. Cristine even made her sleep on the 'safe' side of her medium-sized bed and, with their tiny hands clamped together, slept. Those were the best nights she could remember where her sister kept her safe. A curt glance in the direction of the barricaded door again, and she winced. This was worse than those horror movies because this was real, and she was one of the characters in it. Clenching the grip of her knife so hard that it hurt, a sigh left her mouth. Hearing the even tapping of boots coming closer, Hailey looked to the person it belonged to and saw her sister head her way. Some time passed since Nick and Blake left, and she and a few guys from the militia had taken as much from the inventory as possible until ordered they regroup at their meeting point.

"Hey." Cristine stretched her arm to give her a flavorless pre-packaged protein bar. A light tap on her thigh, and Cristine joined her to sit on the reception counter and stared at the barricaded door. Hailey set her knife back inside the safety of its case and played with the protein bar. She was not feeling as hungry to eat something.

"Any news from the others?" Hailey asked.

"Looking to switch off the alarm," Cristine answered.

"Nick's a crazy genius." Hailey laughed in disbelief with an incredulous shake of her head. To think it actually worked.

"Yeah, Troy and the rest can't shut up about it either. I guess we need the ingenious ones around us. Let's just hope they don't come across whoever did this."

"You think someone planned this?"

"I do." Cristine didn't elaborate as to why and Hailey didn't ask for an explanation either. She trusted her sister's and the other's instinct and experience. "How are you holding on?"

"Fine, I guess." Hailey, her shoulders rose and dropped in an easy shrug, but her eyes kept flitting back to the door. She chewed on the inside of her cheeks and glanced at her sister from the corner of her eyes. "Back on the road, you said that I don't know what's out there... did you mean this?" Resting her cheek on her pulled up knee and keeping her hands busy, Hailey peeked at her sister with the question in her eyes. She saw her sister's facial muscles tighten, frown deepening and her stare turned cool. The shift didn't surprise Hailey, but it did send the lightest chill up her spine. It was another type of feel that was clearly meant to shut everything off and bundle it into a ruthless focus. Hailey wondered if her sister is worried. Or maybe just edgy since she was here too.

Cristine grabbed Hailey's hand; her fingers curled over the underside sister's soft palm. Brushing the pad of her thumb over her smooth knuckles in repetition made her conscious of the difference in their slender hands. She had the calloused hand of someone with a dexterity of handling all sorts of tools and weapons, improvised or real. Those of Hailey's were remarkably soft and clean, telling the story of a fine subtlety and more susceptible to injury. The difference in the feel was what they had done in the literal sense. Compared to Hailey's gentle ones, hers were rough, cruel, and soaked in blood. It was such a contrast. "The dead are just that... dead. You don't really think about them as anything once you get used to putting them down. It's people you need to be cautious of." Cristine paused, eyes taking on a strange glint, remembering all the people she had come across. The many she killed, intentional or not, compared to those she saved and helped. It was skewed. Licking her lips, Cristine tightened her grip around her sister's clammy hands. "Especially if they think you have something good. Something they feel is theirs to take, and they'll hurt to get it. Kill for it. You have to be ready to protect it, keep it safe. You have to be able to make that choice in a split second."

"What if you're not sure if that person deserves it?" Hailey's breath shuddered after asking the question. The way her sister talked so easily about killing another living person, not the dead, incomprehensible. Hailey knew it was what it took, but how would they discern the good people like them from the bad ones like the Nation? Her expressive blue eyes remained unblinking to hear what the answer was.

"You'll know." Hailey wants to ask how but didn't. Squeezing her sister's hand back tightly, she pushed herself into Cristine's side and stared at the entrance. They shared a silence that was comfortable despite everyone restlessly moving around and the moaning of the dead.

Hailey shifted on her seat and began to feel a bit uncomfortable before whispering, "I need to use the bathroom."

Troy assigned two men to escort Hailey, joined by Cristine, to the bathroom. The four of them took the path of a long corridor. The man and woman's footsteps were cautious, scanning everything for a potential threat. Luckily, most had been cleared already. They arrived at the stalls, and after double-checking all the stalls, Hailey picked one and went inside. Cristine checked the sink, and there was some running water in the sink.

"I'll be waiting outside with the others."

"Yeah," Hailey answered, nodding her head coolly. Once she sat down on the toilet seat's closed lid, Hailey sighed before looking at the ceiling. The mold was growing there, creating a life of its own. Breathing a heavy sigh through her nose, weary; the way the blueish, fluorescent light scratched at her eyes made Hailey rub them as if to deal with the itch of her eyeballs. It was completely silent here—the only sounds the low voices from the other end of the door. Hailey still hovered above the toilet to at least squeeze something out, but it wasn't much. Her bladder did feel full, but maybe it was just her upset stomach by her shivering nerves and light anxiety. Jamming at the handle, Hailey flushes down and grimaces by the clogged sound and stepped out to wash her hands and to wet her cheeks. Her reflection was murky, and tugging at the end of her jacket's sleeve wiped the smudge of the bathroom mirror. She was able to make out what she needed to and gave herself a critical look. "Come on, you big baby, you wanted to come, and now that you're here, you're scared. Others can't always protect you." Shaking her head, Hailey tucked her evenly cut blonde locks behind her ears. Feeling that little bit of courage, she collected seep into her body. Hailey exhaled deeply and, with a light smile, pushed the bathroom door open.

"Hailey!" Cristine's painful grunt still needed to register through Hailey's ears when she blinked at her sister tiptoeing in front of the familiar face holding the nuzzle of his gun against her temple. Blinking, her body froze, and she shot her fumbling hands to her hip, where her gun was, but the threat made her freeze in her tracks.

"Ah, ah, ah. You really think that's a good idea, Hailey?" Tearing her eyes back up when she heard the click of the hammer and Cristine's groan from the steel digging deeper in her skin, Hailey's half confused eyes went wide at the militia member, Andrew if she remembered, with a casual look. As if what he was doing was the most natural thing in the world. Taking in the scene, she saw Emma on the floor, knocked out, but still breathing, it seemed. Feeling her bottom lip beginning to quiver, she pressed it together, giving her a helpless air. "You can remove your gun and knife now. Backpack too and no funny business, or I'll really give you something to cry about." Hailey exhaled. Her pulse rattling around her head. Still processing the how and why, Hailey caught Cristine moving her left hand, flexing her fingers into the sleeve of her shirt. Wide-eyed, Hailey looked up, and her sister maintained eye contact, her emotions comforting her even while she was held under gunshot. Her mouth crumpled together, and Hailey spoke, voice quivering and words coming out broken, "A-Andrew you d-don't- have t-to do t-this." Her eyes swiveled at the man, trying her best to distract the man for just a few seconds. In the meantime, she was carefully unclasping her tactical belt, housing her knife and gun.

"I'm sorry it had to be like this, but if you don't hurry up, you'll have a lot more to worry about than me." Andrew sounded mindful, even sorry for her in a way, but the stare in his eyes only to darken. "I just need one of you to make this shit work anyway. No funny business."

"I-I'm sorry! I'm sorry." Quickly apologizing while worrying about Cristine and the unconscious Emma, Hailey clumsily acquiesced to Andrew's clear threat and went through her hunches, dropping her belt on the floor with a thump and undoing her backpack. She lowered her gaze again, and she saw the glow of the short skinner knife in Cristine's palm. She clenched it in as best backhanded grip, point sticking to the back, ready to strike.

"Hyah!" Emma woke up somewhere and kicked Andrew in the ankle. Crying out in surprise, losing half his balance, his body twisted halfway around, but he didn't drop to his knees as expected. His grip around Cristine did falter, and she slammed her head back, turned, and in a ferocious movement made a swiping motion for Andrew's neck. The tip of the blade only grazed the skin, drawing blood, and Andrew gasped out in shocked pain from the sting and feeling it bleed. He still held his gun in his dominant hand and used that to swing it into Cristine's ribs hard. She hit the wall, clamped her side, and doubled halfway down her knees in pain, only to scramble back up to help Emma, who charged at Andrew.

"Cristine!" Hailey yelled before slamming to the floor and crawling to get her gun.

"Hailey, run back to the others and-" Emma's head snapped horrendously to the side by the unexpected blow from behind. With a thud, she falls face down the floor, dead. A fiery red crimson slowly pools on the floor. The person who'd hit her without a second's thought had a crowbar gripped in his massive and veined hand. He didn't bat an eye, his mouth twitched, and before anyone could blink or do something, the man lumbered down his knees and rose his arm. A repeated head-cracking sound followed the steel thunk sinking into crushed membrane splattered on the speckled grey granite. The repeated attack of the man-bashing one of their people's heads in like it was nothing, like she meant nothing, even send Cristine to halt. Another break in the action and Hailey's shock-shelled face. Her brain shut down, and she was clammy. Shaking, those same eyes flicked her way, and all the strength she mustered left her body. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her voice was stuck in her throat. Her world spun, and the sounds in her ears dulled. Hailey wasn't even sure what was happening anymore. She occasionally heard Cristine's shrill voice through the conversation of multiple voices.

"Hailey!" Cristine's yell turned into something painful, and the sound of struggling was heard.

"- the… down… killed them."

"saved your ass-"

"part of the plan-"

"-take the girl."

"Don't you fucking touch her!" Cristine roared. Hailey twitched when a shadow covered her. She looked between the space of the dark denim pants, a flicker of Cristine getting body slammed into the ground by her neck and a knee in her back. She was struggling futilely against the grip.

"Shut the fuck up!" She heard Andrew, he was the one holding Cristine down, and someone new, a third person, kicked Cristine in the jaw. Her sister's head bounced on the hard surface, knocking her out cold. She didn't move. Hailey jumped in fright.

"Cr-Cristine!" Hailey wanted to move, but her legs were frozen and her vision blocked by the man hunching down, leaving her shell-shocked again. And Hailey pushed her feet into the floor, back hurting as she fruitlessly tried to mold herself with the wall she was pressed up against. Her heart moved at a tremendous speed, and her lungs shallowly rose and fell, flinching when the blood-splattered face, Emma's blood, came in sight. Like a fish looking for water, Hailey flailed to get as far away from the psychotic man who carefully eyed her up and down with his hazel eyes. His tousled dark brown hair had some brain matter sticking between his locks. Blinking at the man peering silently back and slid his hand into his pocket. Hailey squirmed, thinking the unimaginable when he plucked out a dark blue cloth and grasped her shivering hand, and began to rub the fabric around her wet hands speckled with blood too with a sickening gentleness. The man who so mercilessly bashed a human head in with all his strength gone, his hands were large, and Hailey was sure that if he wanted to, he'd crush her head too.

"Okay, they're clean." The baritone voice, smoky, and low comes from the tending to her. After he also wiped his hands and face, but the blood only managed to blot out in some places, smearing thickly at his jawline. But his strong and defined features were at least better to see. He had black brows sloped down in a serious expression. His mouth was drawn in a straight line but softened when making eye contact, just like his eyes with flecks of green, amber, and the lightest tints of blue.

"…" Hailey was left speechless. Voice stuck in her throat.

"I'm sorry you had to see something like that. But uh, she was going to kill Andrew." The man dropped his head between his shoulders and gazes at his handkerchief before stuffing it back in the inner pocket.

"…"

"Hailey, right?" Not taking offense to her silence, the man pulled up his nose and sighed before asking, "can you stand?" There was a slight southern drawl to his voice, but the feral embers of his violent rage had all but faded in his eyes. "If you can't, I can carry you."

"N-No." Hailey squeaked in a small voice and shook her head, "I-I can… just- please don't hurt us."

"We won't hurt you, I promise." Hailey noticed the details this man added during their slow conversation. She also noticed he talked to her as if her sister didn't exist. Hailey narrowed her wet gaze and felt tears well up her eyes again. This man just cracked someone's skull in and maltreated her sister, but she was supposed to believe they weren't out to hurt her. As if he heard her thoughts, the man clenched his jaw and raked his hand through his locks. "Andrew said your sister would put up a fight, so you can't really blame for how we had to handle her. Again, self-defense."

"Aaron, we don't have time for conversations and explanations." A third voice, male, interjected, annoyed. He was the one that had kicked Cristine in the shin. Hailey slowly realized that these people- this group was waiting for an opportunity to grab them. They were waiting here. But how did they get in and go out when the dead were here. "We need to get out before those pricks figure out something's wrong and come looking."

"Calm down Vince," Aaron sounded like he was the one in charge from the way he carried himself and talked to the others. Hailey pressed her shaking hands into her chest and glanced over the man's shoulder. She flinched when she saw Andrew looking at her with a blank expression. He'd always been low-key, non-descript, and blended in with the rest. She never thought he'd be part of another group or even fake his way through the community's processing like this.

"We just going to leave the body here?" Hailey looked where Andrew gestured at. Away from the wall, she huddled all the way up to by herself, the mesh of caved in flesh bone and red and brains cam insight. Her watery eyes enlarged, and the hairs of her neck quivered.

"Not enough time to clean it up… so yeah."

"Shit!" Vince complained, "you think they'll trade their supplies willingly now that we took one of theirs?"

"They're Broke Jaw's medics. They can't afford to lose them," Andrew commented.

Aaron nodded and did some calculations in his head, "not counting the other two in the main building, they're with six here. Too many and too heavily armed. We won't be able to take 'em with what we have." Having made up his mind, he jerked his chin up, and both Andrew and Vince patted Cristine down again. Hailey recoiled when Aaron put his attention on her again and brushed her hair from her, covering her face. He smiled. "It's alright. We're not going to hurt you."

"What about my sister?"

Aaron lowered his head again. He really seemed to be debating her words and sighed, "I can't make you any promises, especially if she acts out again. But you helping and cooperating with us can make a difference."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new way of writing has definitely helped me a lot. I'm already writing the next chapter :)


	68. Chapter 68

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another long chapter! Enjoy!

_The infected stalked between the empty, graded trail road squeezed between the wilderness. The immediate terrain, extremely rugged and steep, was a mixture of precipitous hills, patches of faded shrubbery, and beige and green sun-bleached leave of the trees. Guided by its bizarre instinct, the corpse moved, led by impulse and nothing more. It was male in tattered work clothes, maybe a former farmer, possessed by the same sickness that gripped the poor souls inhabiting more than half of the human population. This infected was malnourished, dirty, and skin dried out from exposure to the harsh elements. It smelled of weeks of decay. With its mouth hanging open, the monotone snarls turned vociferous as a potential meal appeared in sight. The insipid energy morphed into the infamous vitality the flesh eating infected was known for. Hungrily, snapping its maw, the thing lunges at the young woman. Cristine had her blade brandished in a firm grip. Single-minded, she stabbed the sharpened end into the eye socket. The frown between her brows accentuated the seriousness in her eyes and bloomed forth into an arduous scowl on her lips when putting the infected down. The corpse dropped face-first into the dirt with a wet sound, and Cristine stood there for a moment, panting under the grueling hot sun, staring down at the folded creature on the ground. Dressed in her outdoor garb and worn-out baseball cap, Cristine perked when the similar sound of bodies dropping was heard. Wiping the back of her neck, Cristine looked over her shoulder into the far distance. Where the Ranch was located, it was a few days after their victory against the Nation. Walker and his people had just upped and left into the wilderness. Their win, however, was bittersweet given the loss suffered. They had a single memorial to remember all their dead, but it was back to work after that. It was part of life now—part of the new reality._

_"Stop daydreaming, doc!" Unclenching her jaw, Cristine sighed before bending over to grab the infected by the arms and began to drag the body to the pit they dug and bury them. She heard the person approach before seeing him pop up on the other side, and Cristine nodded at Troy in gratitude. Lifting the body at the ankles at the count of three, the two carried the body to their self-made garbage dump of the dead. It was Troy who ordered they needed a barrier to slow any incoming infected from breaching the perimeter. So the militia dug some pits, ditched the dead in there, and burned them. "They've been breaching the perimeter more frequently. Another 24 hours, and they would've breached the perimeter."_

_"We're spread too thin to cover everything," Cristine said. The ones hit the most was the militia, and Cristine had to switch her shift again. At least, she had Alicia and Hailey she could count on to take off that workload for the time being. The ones who were strong enough to make it through the anthrax attack were stable and could slowly do their chores again. What they desperately needed were people for the militia. Strong and loyal soldiers to replenish the front lines. Men and women with experience. They only had a handful of those now, and it weighed negatively on everyone's mood. Tilting the surprisingly heavy corpse despite it's mangled build inches above the ground, Blake and Cristine swayed it back and forth like a pendulum and threw it into a deep pit. Standing at the edge of the manmade excavation, the putrid odor seemed to worsen under the sun on top of the stacked bodies. It was an unhealthy combination of rotten human waste cooked in grease. That's how harsh the sun rays were beating down on the surface. Eyes blinking at the pile of corpses lying, akimbo slowly turned into a small mountain that already filled half the pit; Cristine began to chew on her lip and tapped the end of her finger on the side of her legs._

_"We'll need to set up a few decent forcefields outside the perimeter again." Troy mused, stepping in line next to her and looking down with Cristine at the dead. Wiping his flushed face with his sleeve from the layer of sweat and disposal of the dead. Looking at the taciturn and brooding woman, he almost wanted to chuckle at the deep frown on Cristine's face. It told the story of someone with many piled burdens that weren't all necessary to be carried by one person. But his expression quickly turned lukewarm when scrutinizing the stark bruises on the side of her face. A few days later and it had now taken on a darker-hued purple that clashed against her strong terracotta brown skin. At least the inflamed parts near her lips had calmed down, and the swollenness had significantly reduced. His fingers twitched, fighting to urge to touch, but pushed that desire down. Last time he had, Cristine had thrown those calculating advances back in his face in a sneer of contempt. It was a breach of trust, and Troy would do his best to respect that. For that to die down._

_"What?" Cristine felt Troy's nosy stare on her face and jerked her eyes from the pit contents to him. Her dark brown eyes drilled into his, almost prepping to accuse him of something he was about to say. Troy's mouth pulled down in one of his carefree shrugs, and he looked in the distance, frown deep on his face as he squinted reflex from the nasty sun rays. Cristine followed the direction where he looked; the Ranch. She flicked a drop of sweat from her brow and waited until he said something._

_"We'll need to come out every day for other potential dangers, too," Troy commented. It was easy enough to put two and two together. He was as restless by the sudden retreat of the Nation as her. They needed to be cautious. Yes, Walker and his people retreated because of the devastation caused by the Survivalist, but they were still alive somewhere. It felt like constantly sleeping with both eyes open instead of one for retribution, but at the moment, Broke Jaw was recovering. Straightening her pose when he looked back at her with a more severe attitude, Troy slid his hand in his pocket and pointed at the dead with a jerk of his chin. "The dead's the least of our worries. Nothing a new set of forcefields can't fix. The issue is that we're still in wartime posture when the enemy is still alive. Hate to admit it, but we're running low on people we can trust and able to defend what we still have."_

_"My father mentioned vetting for new community members outside?" Troy nodded at Cristine's inquiry, eyes peering back with a hesitance that he wasn't 100 percent sure if that was the solution. He wanted other possibilities, but they couldn't bring their dead back unless they were resurrected, cannibals. Bringing in strangers, that was something they rarely did. The last new people Troy vetted for were Madison and her daughter. Nick was a bonus, but he had proven himself by joining the militia and doing his part as a rookie._

_"It was something Jake brought to the table this morning. My father is cautious, yours too, and they're right. We can't just welcome anyone we come across. There are too many dangerous and untrustworthy people out there who want what's ours." The wrinkles on Troy's forehead deepened from the heavy frown. The last thing he wanted was to accept all types of people here. Broke Jaw Ranch was built for people with patriotic thinkers. People who actually believed in something and knew what real freedom was like. Not all the pillagers, criminals, pillagers, gang members, or illegals e had made this area unsafe since he was a kid._

_"You vetted for the Clarks, right? Why not do something similar to that? Like an enlistment."_

_The suggestion was pragmatic and humane. Who wouldn't want a new home with walls, supplies, and their own militia to protect them? Troy nodded, indicating that he had thought of something similar after his brother introduced the idea to solve half of their problems. The thing was, most of the community members didn't welcome new people too easily and for a good reason. Troy stood behind that idea, given that the cons outweighed the pros. Thinking long and hard, he stared at Cristine again for a bit, almost doubtful, but explained coolly. "If we are going to process people, we'll need to do it away from here. That's using up resources too…"_

_"See it as a long term investment. One can only hope that the dead between the Nation and us is enough to repair it all. And while I know we're all very dedicated workers, it'll take a toll on everyone. On the militia. You." Cristine softly rubbed the back of her nape with her palm from the odd look Troy gave her. "I don't know. I trust your gut feeling on this."_

_~ End flashback ~_

  
Troy should've followed the shimmering hot feeling in his gut. He should've known this was a set-up from the fucking start. He glowered coldly at Emma's lifeless body. Her head was caved in like a watermelon split in two and then beaten up even more. Another soldier they'd have to hold a memorial for back home. He let that thought dissolve as soon as it entered his mind. They were here to protect their medics, and from what he saw, Emma had done what she signed up for. But that wasn't what clawed in the crevices of Troy's skull or woke the darkness in the back of his head. It wasn't what was important right now or what he wanted to know. What he needed to know was, "who was the one who processed Andrew?" the question lingered in the air of the hallway where the militia scouted for clues where Cristine and Hailey might've been taken to.

Discerning the erratic and dangerous shift around Troy, Cooper was the one who answered, voice careful, "Jake, I think."

_"Of course, it was."_ Troy inhaled deeply, nostrils twitching, and his brows furrowed, glaring at Emma's corpse, "what you got?"

Rubbing the back of his neck, Cooper looks down at the woman's body with sorrow, and with the other scratches his beard, "the body's still warm…" he began to explain and looks his leader in the eye again, "the blood shows two extra shoes here, but the tracks seem to stop around here." They followed the bloody footsteps that faded into a lighter red but were still trackable and ended up in the basement area. There Troy scoffed and clenched his fist repeatedly until his nails snapped him from his trance. The chains wrapped around the see-through railings were mocking them. Nothing but darkness, the sound of gushing water faraway, and a foul stench exuded from the round hole.

"Like fucking rats, they used the sewers to get in and out." Of course. Why hadn't he thought of that? Troy snarls, his hand rubbing back and forth through his hair. "Alright, someone cut those!" Troy barked before resting his hand to his hip, exchanging thoughts and ideas with Cooper. "We have any idea which way it leads to?"

"It's a wild guess, and we don't have any maps to know for sure. But I did see a couple of utility hole on the campus grounds and the streets… but with the dead here, that's risky. So maybe the tunnels are linked to the other buildings as well."

"But there's no way to know for sure where they'll be." Something else bothered Troy too, and peering through the slick, dark-tinged tunnel, he cocked his head. "They clearly understand what Hailey and Cristine mean to our community, or they would have killed them too. Andrew must have been backchanneling intel with his buddies too. Talked about the Ranch, our supplies, our community, the defenses, our militia, our fucking routes."

"It's the first time he's been with us on the run, though," Cooper reminded and cautiously watched the back of Troy's head. He couldn't see his face, but the edges of his jaw shifted with grim determination. Cooper could only imagine the suppressed fury and sense of failure. True, they all had their role to play, but the responsibility was on Troy's shoulders at the end of the day. He was the one who made the calls, the plans and gave them orders. They were even more points behind, and it just seemed to get worse by the minute. They lost one of theirs, trapped and surrounded, played by a rat, and now Hailey and Cristine were caught by a group with cutthroat motives.

"Doesn't matter." Troy stepped back when two militia members started the arduous process of cutting and untangling the chains. It was going to take them a while. They didn't have that time, but Troy didn't want to use the walkie to call in Blake either. He couldn't since they were probably listening from the rest of the walkies. They were too busy switching off the alarm. Tilting his head slightly, the edge of his upper lips twitches in anger, and Troy decided to go back to the reception and swiveled his head to look at Cooper and said, "you're in charge."

"Troy, where are you going?" Cooper was caught off-guard by the order and was already hot on Troy's heels. "What the hell you mean I'm in charge?"

"They haven't contacted us to make their demands, which means they're probably waiting until we call them." Waltzing straight for the dead, they butchered down; Troy unbuttoned his uniform jacket and went through his hunches before he stuck his hand into the contaminated guts and began to laminate his clothes with the tainted innards. "Since they most likely know Nick and Blake were headed for the main building, I'm going to meet up with them."

"To do what? We don't know where they're holed up at. Besides, the brains behind all this probably want to talk to the one in charge… that's you. Not me." Cooper didn't understand Troy's sudden lack of insight and all the facts. But then again, Troy was known to make questionable calls and trust his instincts and emotions to make certain crazy calls. He was going to look for a needle in a haystack, between hundreds of infected that only grew more and more in size. "Best chance we have is to sort our way out of this through the sewers while we hear what they have to say, keep 'em talking, and placate them with a listening ear."

His answer was clipped and non-negotiable. "I'm not negotiating with scum," Troy counted the bullets in his handgun, took a few clips, and tightened his tactical belt around his waist. He did the same with his rifle. Cooper called his name a few times, but Troy's ears were closed. He had already made up his mind, and he wasn't going to let anyone stop him from saving Cristine.

"Troy, I get that you're pissed, but think. You're going to walk through a horde to meet up with Blake and Nick. Then what? We don't know shit about shit. Their location or their numbers. As you said, they could be waiting to see if we're trying anything, and that would be the end of it." Cooper was calm and made sense, but that somehow pissed Troy off even more. "We need to trust that Cristine can stall until we get there."

"You see what they did to Emma? Cracked her skull open like an egg. Do you know how hard it is to do that? That's something animals do… someone who has nothing to lose. Someone needs to make a point and brag about who he is and what he's capable of. That tells me at least one of them is unhinged and can kill either of them when they want to. When they feel like it, and I'm not going to sit on my ass until they decide to bash her head in." Cooper doesn't say anything for a bit, he stares at Troy, and the latter's eyes squinted. "If you're trying to stop me from going out there, Cooper, I'll shoot you in the head."

"I know, just-" Cooper inhaled, trying to think of another approach to this. "-just let me think. The thing is, Andrew has been around us for a while, doing the shitty work, yeah, but he's had time to observes us. Observe you." Troy paused, and Cooper licked his lips when he saw the other one contemplating his words. I hoped that was enough to alleviate his anger. "Let me go instead."

"Nah, I need you to find the trail. You're our best tracker, and that's why I'll know you'll find the trail." Troy rejected that proposal and bulldozed through the hallway to the emergency door where Blake and Nick left an hour ago. He wasn't going to let any of this shit stop him. He got taken for a fool already. He'd be damned if he was going to lose something of his on top of that. "Go back, Coop." Troy pressed his ear to the door before he pushed the handle open the slightest bit and looked through the crack if he spotted any dead. This side of the alleyway wasn't as crowded, and the dead were further away from the side entrance. He could blend in from here.

"If these guys are who you say they are, won't you not answering to their demands make them even more suspicious? Put Hailey- Cristine at risk? You think you're protecting them- any of us like that?"

Troy didn't move, but his head did angle so that Cooper could almost detect the side profile of his face. The dark-colored blood that looked like motor oil was caked on his skin and clothing. It really looked like he was one of the dead like that, but one with intelligence to know where his next victim was located and contemplating whether to hurt or not. Cooper's Adam's apple bobbed from swallowing, familiar with Troy's flaring temper when he thought he was being defied or disobeyed. But Troy wasn't thinking clearly right now. He was thinking with his ego, thinking he had to beat whoever was on the other side. "We'll make them pay, but we need to do this step by step. They're two points ahead of us, and we need to even the playing field." Cooper didn't know how long he was standing on his spot, looking at Troy's unmoving silhouette with the door cracked open, but he saw Troy's hand move in the direction of his waist, where his gun was. Wide-eyed, Cooper wanted to go for his handgun on reflex. Troy turned halfway around, seeing Cooper shift on his legs with a surprised face when he unclipped the walkie-talkie from his pants and thumbed the radio.

"Alright, asshole, I know you're there. Before we're going to do this, I need to make sure my people are all right, or the deal's off."

-

Cristine felt her consciousness float through space. Throughout that void, her heartbeat echoed in her eardrum together with a high-pitched noise. Her body twitched when she tried to change her position, but her side throbbed in protest by the sudden movement. Even hissing in pain from her ribs hurting elicited another wave of discomfort when she clenched her jaw, and the last thing she remembered was some prick kicking her in the shin. Fighting to push herself through the disoriented sea of blackness, Cristine slowly roused from her forced comatose until she woke up in a stupor of mottled colors floating in front of her eyes. She heard people talking and squinting her eyes together, mend together the upper half of a body. Her reactions were slow, and trying to slowly move up into a comfortable position where her side didn't hurt. Cristine grunted when something smooth and synthetic pressed against the side of her jaw. Sighing in both pain and ease, Cristine rapidly blinked at the face of her younger sister.

"Hailey?" Her voice was soft, confused, and she curled back in reflex at the shooting pain in her body.

"I checked, and nothing's broken. Just don't make any sudden movements." Cristine squinted her eyes together and felt Hailey's fingers stroke through her curls, combing them down. "Here, drink some." Raising her head and parting her lips, Hailey gently tilts a bottle of water between her mouth.

"Where are we?" Cristine asked in a low whisper, a critical eye mapping the layout of what resembled an office room, and slowly slid into a sitting position. Turning her head, where the natural hit the inside of the room, she looked through the window to make sense of where they were. She didn't hear the alarm anymore, which meant Blake and Nick had switched it off while knocked out cold. The dead were here, but there weren't as many from where the main building was or the pharmacy.

Hailey's answer is soft, "I don't know which building this is, but we're still on the campus. They blindfolded me once we made it out of the sewers." The crack in her voice is what made Cristine's forget the scenery outside or their absent captors. Seeing the way she wrung her hands together, fighting to reach out and her quivering shoulders, Cristine is reminded of the brutal incident of Emma's death. Hailey's eyes were already red and puffy from crying before, so when the hot tears spilled from her already wet lashes, Cristine ignored everything else, even the spasm of her side and jaw, to assuage the mental blow her baby sister just went through and hugged Hailey tightly. Her upper body trembled, her cries were more hiccups of air, and Cristine palmed her hand firmly in the back of her head, wishing she could take what Hailey witnessed into her own mind. Feeling the wet rub of her nose and cheek in the crook of her neck, Cristine glowered darkly at the shut door and the shadows moving behind them.

"The guy in charge, the one who did that to Emma, he-" Hailey croaked in her ear, having calmed down from her sister's strong and protective embrace. "He seems to like me… I don't know why, but he was civil and really thoughtful."

Cristine's eyebrows pulled tightly together, and she whispered back in Hailey's ears, "he's a psychopath, and you're staying the hell away from him." She didn't know if this was Hailey's shock talking about a person who killed one of their own like that and labeling a guy like that as 'civil.' "Let me handle this."

"I hid this before they took us." Looking at the door, Hailey snuck her lithe fingers between her boots and pulled out Cristine's skinner knife. A sound, part surprise and part relief left Cristine's mouth. Quickly, Cristine swiped the small blade from her and clenched it inside her hands. Looking between it and Hailey, an odd look of surprise and unfamiliarity fogged over her face. She knew Hailey had changed, but Cristine didn't know it was to this extent. Pursing her lip together, Cristine swallowed and didn't understand why her heart stuttered when she slipped the knife in her own boots. "I didn't really think about it when I took it. I just did." It sounded as if her sister wanted to explain more, but Cristine shook her head and interrupted her.

"If I'll have to use it… when I do… it's going to be me, alright?" Cristine wanted to spare Hailey from that.

"All right."

The lock of the door rattled, and keys rattled from the other opposite side. Cristine and Hailey got up when the door opened, and Cristine habitually pushed Hailey behind her. Andrew and Aaron walked. The latter held a walkie in his hand while Andrew had his gun in his right hand. "Good, you're up. Troy called in wants to know if you're both fine before we talk," Aaron's smile was casual, but his body language was purposeful and thoughtful. There weren't any openings Cristine could find in his stride towards her and Hailey. There weren't even any weapons on him. Cristine swallowed, and her glare swiveled between him and Andrew, who raised his gun with two hands, one to aim and the other to hold his weapon steady. The barrel pointed in their direction without the faintest of a tremor. Cristine's glower sharpened by the knowledge that this degenerate was able to deceive them for weeks. Without having to speak, it was clear that she loathed him. Aaron stopped midway in his stride and eyeballed Cristine, then looked over his shoulder at Andrew, and an easy laugh bubbled from his lips.

"You upset quite a few people, Andrew." Aaron joked.

"Story of my damn life. Best to get in the back of the line." The lanky man shrugged, unfazed by his betrayal.

"Don't mind, Andrew. I think he's been a cold-blooded bastard from birth. Hence, why he was perfect for this little job I gave him." Aaron waved the portable radio in front of them and went back to business quickly. "I'm gonna put either of you on now. No weird stuff, just say you're fine." Raising the walkie-talkie in front of Cristine's mouth, Aaron watched the woman with the tightly curled hair and a permanent scowl tightening her face, from the wrinkle at the corner of her nose to the line between her brows. "Go on." He pressed on the button and perked his ears.

"Troy, it's Cristine. I'm fine. We-" Aaron scoffed before he pushed her aside and brought the walkie in front of Hailey.

"Go ahead." He ushered.

"Troy, this is Hailey. I'm alright." Aaron hiked the walkie close to his lips again, stare fixated on Hailey while speaking to Troy as he was doing his business.

"Alright, you got your proof. So let's talk. What are your doctors worth?"

Troy's static voice replied, "let's cut to the chase. You want all our supplies, guns, and vehicles, right?" Aaron's lips twitched, and he flicked his eyes over at Cristine, who stood to his left, watching him intently. "I'm not going to do that." Arching his brow, by what Aaron guessed was a bluff, his lips relaxed again.

"So, tell me, Troy, what are you going to do?"

"You get one car, a week's worth of supplies, some guns, and ammo. You and your little group get to live and get the hell out of the state."

"Hm, you don't sound like the generous type… is that really what you feel they're worth? Doesn't sound like much."

"Not much is a lot these days."

Aaron twisted on the back of his shoes, facing Cristine, and listed all the things their community had in abundance. "Yeah, but with a pantry, fortified walls, a community, crops, cattle, your own little army… I'd say you're a goddamn rich kid. the Ranch is not the only place planning for a future in the new world."

"Then I'm sure you're familiar with how utilitarianism works." Aaron moved his jaw back and forth. His fingers itched when Cristine looked away, the tilt on her lips smug. Like she'd accepted her fate after hearing Troy's words. He glanced at Hailey at the corner of his eyes, the younger woman was easier to read, and she chewed on her lips and looked unprepared and confused by the twist of the conversation. Aaron wasn't convinced, though.

"So you'll sacrifice two of yours just like that? It's funny because, uh, Andrew told me you and your men had a soft spot for Cristine in particular." Said's poker face was impeccable, but Cristine lowered her gaze to look at the couch with a slight frown. Aaron's chin moved up and down, but it wasn't a deliberate movement and elaborated. "I've heard some stories about your trials and tribulations… about the Indian tribe too. I get it, I do, and you'll get no judgment from me. We all did things to help the people we care about—the things done for survival. Doing things like that with others creates a different type of bond. You trust them with your life, and that's something no one can take away. So you'll have to excuse my French if I don't fucking believe a word you say. I'm giving you thirty minutes to give me a better offer, or I'll start cutting Cristine's fingers one by one."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> How are you guys liking this new arc so far? I would love to read your thoughts! It definitely inspires me to write and post(longer) chapters quicker than usual:).


	69. Chapter 69

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm loving these longer chapters and hope you guys have been too! I've been really in the flow of writing lately and hope it keeps up. An early update :)

"You try anything, and it's more than your fingers you need to worry about." Aaron separated her and Hailey and put them in different rooms. Cristine didn't sit down. She kept standing and hawked the brunette's every move. Her arms were behind her back, and she had her chin raised. He was checking the office, cleaned up any cups, utensils, or stationary that could be used as a weapon. He was picking it all clean. "You probably think if there's a way out of this, and I'll just burst your dream and tell you that there isn't. Not for you, at least."  
  
"You better stay the fuck away from her, you creep." Cristine ignored the pointed comment, thinking of what Hailey had told her after she woke up. Aaron had a bizarre interest in her sister, and Cristine didn't want to entertain it or use it to their advantage in any way. There was nothing more dangerous than a violent man infatuated with someone else. She didn't miss how Aaron was more mindful with his words than his rudeness towards her, how he checked up on Hailey and asked if she was alright. Or that he lied to her sister that he wouldn't hurt her. He would do that and probably more. There was this dark tick in the man's stare. It distorted his persona, and remembering what he had done to Emma, Cristine had a feeling the leader hadn't even quenched his thirst for blood.  
The timbre of Aaron's laughter bounced off the walls like a bouncing ball. The laugh was in his eyes, his face relaxed with unexplainable and unrestrained glee. As a schoolboy, but it was both juvenile and scary. He wasn't the usually personified creep, and his emotions and reactions didn't match the situation. But he was smart, observant, and had people who followed him. In many ways, Aaron made Cristine think of Troy, just with different urges. "Don't worry, I know she's still a kid. I'm not some pervert. Just caught off-guard, is all. People like her don't usually make it this far unless others die in their stead as Emma did." Aaron rested on the office desk and crossed his arms over his chest. He said he seemed to elicit some annoyance from his hostile hostage, who sneered and looked out the window.  
  
"Troy's not going to negotiate. We're a liability now, and you and your people are a risk. The location of the Ranch is exposed. I wouldn't be surprised if he'd let this place get overrun by the dead to protect our people back home. That's the only thing that matters." Saying that, Cristine stared at the husks of the dead. They never bumped against each other, a portable forcefield for the pickings. Hearing the creaking o the wooden table, Cristine's eyes darted back at him, and the regulated apathy evened out her face into a blank mask.  
  
"Uh-huh, and I don't think you believe that. Maybe if it were just you, but you're sister's here. Andrew told me that the two of you are close despite being half-sisters." Aaron licked his thin lips before sharing, "I had a younger brother too, but he got killed a while ago… found his body in the woods when my last group and I were scavenging." Aaron asked her a question, "you know why I dislike you, Cristine?"  
  
"I don't give a shit."  
  
"You should." Aaron tapped his fingers on his bicep before towering to his full height. He took one step forward. Then another. And another one until he was standing in front of Cristine with a harsh glower. His nostrils twitched, his breathing slowed down, and his breath was hot on her face, hissing. "Guess." Again. There was that animosity like he knew who she was or had come to know. Cristine, her breaths were low, her heart was racing in her throat, and her hands were clammy with a cold sweat.  
  
  
-  
  
  
Hailey didn't know why she and Cristine were separated. All she knew was that Aaron said he just wanted to talk with her sister, assuring her that he wouldn't cut her sister's fingers. He needed to give Troy some incentive, was all. Hailey didn't buy it, even less with the way he took Cristine with him. "Don't listen to anything they say, Hailey," Cristine had said while being roughly dragged from the room. Aaron left Hailey with Andrew in the office. Their other companion, Vince, wasn't around. He was checking the sewers. He was good with explosives and had a lovely gift waiting for the militia if they tried to use one of those entrances. Hailey rocked back and forth in her seat, making herself look small and frail. Biting her lip, she felt Andrew's dark, dead eyes on her. He didn't stick out or anything. He was average, and that probably made him the perfect person for this infiltration job.  
  
"What're you going to do once you have what you want?"  
  
"Depends on what Aaron wants," Andrew answered with a shrug. He was busy checking his gun. He sat behind the office desk, and surprisingly, it fit him. Hailey wouldn't be surprised if the older man had some office job before this. How someone like that could change from that into a backstabbing traitor was beyond Hailey. "I know what you think of me." Andrew shrugged again, showing he didn't care one bit.  
  
"I doubt it." Hailey scoffed. She sat on the couch with her arms crossed around her pulled up legs.  
  
"My people and I just take the supplies and go. There weren't supposed to be any casualties. "Andrew told her, this time, there was a slither of guilt or remorse in his voice. But it didn't last too long, and the man walked to the window. Looking down at the dead, the natural light hit the profile of his face. His eyes displayed a glaze that looked almost catatonic to Hailey.  
  
"We used to be your people. We took you in… ate with us. Bonded with the guys. Now listen to you." Hailey scowled deeply, getting angrier and angrier the second she listed all the things they did for the man out of humanity. She thought with all that had happened with the Nation, seeing her sister and father, human decency was gone. The Survivalists were always pragmatic; they didn't take too kindly to strangers and new people. So when they started vetting for them, it was like a beacon of light in this dark reality. "Your boss is going to hurt Cristine and me if he doesn't get what he wants. Do you get that? Do you care? We treated you like family. One of our own."  
  
"You don't understand." Andrew turned away from the window and leaned against the sill with his arms crossed over his chest. He looked the adolescent up and down, and his voice chilled. "This is my family. They always will be. The things we did. They bond men in the same way it bonds the militia. Family. You wouldn't understand."  
  
"Then make me," Hailey said in exasperation. This so-called bond was more potent than humanity. A bond that one does selfish and horrible things. "Make me understand how observing fathers, mothers, families, and friends doing all they can to rebuild things for weeks didn't make you rethink your ways. That there was something or someone that made you think twice of putting them at risk by bringing someone like your boss to our doorstep."  
  
  
  
-  
  


"…"  
  
"I said, guess, or I'll make you wish I killed both you and your sister." His voice flatlined with emotion.  
  
Looking back and forth, Cristine raked her mind for only one thing that could be true for a lot of people, even if she probably hadn't remembered the details anymore. Making it her goal to never look away from the cold and threatening gaze, Cristine kissed her teeth and said, "I killed someone you-"  
  
"Who?!" Aaron's rough hand snaked around her throat, palms pressing against her throat. Apart from the choked grunt squeezing through her lips, Cristine didn't let out any other noise. She couldn't, other than gasping for air, and both her hands moved to his wrist, clawing at it. Looking up, the edges of her eyes wrinkled together, dark irises looking at the fiery ambers swirling within hazel. The fury, the rage, laced with tears that had never shed, shivered. He looked to her for answers, but Cristine shook her head between the small space and began to wheeze when Aaron began to add more and more pressure around her windpipe. "You're going to fucking tell me you forgot?! You don't deserve to have that luxury, you murderous bitch!"  
  
"I- go-" Tears began to well up in Cristine's eyes. It was like she was slowly drowning. The breathing became harder and harder to take. All Cristine felt was the strong, immovable fingers around her neck, and slowly, the black spots started across her vision. She wasn't able to fight strength with strength. Aaron could squeeze the life out of her until the oxygen left her lungs. And it seemed he was about to when a perverse smirk flitted across his lips, and he abruptly let go.  
  
Doubling over, Cristine coughed and cradled her throat. Aaron released a satisfied sigh, the buzz of adrenaline evening out through his body. For a second, he debated if he should just kill the woman. It'd be easy too. He stood there, narrowing his eyes. Andrew had told him one story in particular through their weekly check-ins that made him puzzle the pieces together the story of when they found his last and only family member's body in the woods. Aaron put him down. He didn't think he'd ever know who the culprit was, but justice seemed on his side. It was a surprise the man didn't have a crease in the top of his eye sockets from the eye-rolling. Hearing the dry hacks and coughs even out, Aaron smirked when Cristine glowered up and spat on his boot.  
  
"Whether you work this out with Troy or not, you're going to die."  
  
"If my lights do go out, I hope it does after I get to kill you." Aaron was unimpressed and checked his wind-up watch and walked back in the direction of the desk, and dumped the last things he considered as a weapon in the box. "Save all that energy; instead, you're going to need it." With that, the man left, leaving Cristine alone in the office room. Palming the burn of her windpipe, she shut her eyes, and her lip began to quiver. There was a buzzing inside her ear, and she looked at her fists. The ripped skin against her protruding knuckles told the story of her altercation with Andrew when he caught her and Emma off-guard. Sucking in a deep breath, Cristine rubbed her thumb at the corner of her eyes and sniffed. No practicality in shedding tears.  
  
All she knew was that her chances of surviving the day were low right now. Especially with the grudge, Aaron had against her. A burst of restless energy kept her on edge, and Cristine began to rack her mind to the measures she could take to make it out. Three grown and sturdy men outnumbered her. Other than a knife, she had Hailey to think of. That kept her thoughts from forming a reckless plan of ambushing one. Every once in a while, Cristine needed to squeeze her nails into her palms. The pain was always a sure tactic to center her focus again. Moving her eyes around the room, they climbed to the wall and stared at the thirteen striped flag and its 50 stars standing out on the blue square. Wiping the tip of her nose on the crook of her shoulder, Cristine wasn't sure if it was a coincidence or dumb luck when she looked through the window again. Transfixed by the dirt-covered dwellers stumbling around the empty, 35 feet high flagpole, it felt like witnessing a joke as she glanced back at the flag on the wall and began to check the windows. Sighing, she was relieved to find that they opened manually. This was going to be a long-shot, but it was her best chance right now. She hoped it would grab someone's attention.  
  
  
  
_~ Flashback ~  
  
__"Sixty days," a quick smile appeared on Troy's lips after he said that and turfed a line on the last page of his journal before burying back inside the side pocket of his pants. Cristine lowered the binoculars from her eyes and looked at the tall brunette with a cluelessness that made Troy elaborate, "today marks sixty days since you got here. It's been seventy-four days since the start of the apocalypse. I've been keeping track of time." The faint quirk on her lips was satisfactory enough, and Troy stepped at her side to watch the outskirts of the horizon from the watchtower overlooking the valley. Troy was supposed to relieve Cristine from her guard duty to start her afternoon shift in the infirmary.  
  
__"Feels a lot longer," Cristine commented after she did a final visual sweep of the sunbathed acreages of the Ranch. She removed the binocular from her neck and handed it to Troy. After, Cristine relished in the quiet between them. There was never an average day in the apocalypse. But gradually, the building blocks of a system returned to their lives. Sure, they were still understaffed, but the restless days of looking over their backs switched from anxiety to militancy. Cristine spread her palm over the counter's warm wood and observed the specks of people doing their chores, patrols, cattle, children playing again. At least some sense of routine was back. "How are you holding on with all those double shifts?"  
  
__Troy kept his hands occupied with the state of the art apparatus. "Gave me time to think about what we talked about yesterday during cleanup. About processing new people for the Ranch... I'm going to propose my take on it to Jake and big Otto when we have our morning debrief." A pleasant breeze momentarily cooled the air. Troy shifted on his feet and scratched his throat with a fake cough, and found his voice again, "you, uh, you wanna hear it?"  
  
__"Sure."  
  
__Sitting next to each other on the wooden surface, the two began to discuss Troy's vetting process for the next fifteen minutes. Ultimately, it all came down to a lot of trust and gut instinct. Troy trust he had his senses when it came to picking out people such as himself. The survivors. The warriors. But he couldn't just trust on just that. People like that were dangerous too. What they needed to know was people's motivation that would make and break it. Troy wasn't a hundred percent sure if the questions he had in mind were qualified, but it would be different from what he had done at the military depot. He was going to vet survivors for their community. Cristine gave her opinion on his method. "You won't be a hundred percent sure who fits and who won't just from those questions. Use it as a buffer. How they will earn their keep is what matters the most. The answers are the first shield."  
  
__"Still, it's a lot of trust we'll put in judging total strangers. You know our people don't accept easily for good reasons too. It's what kept us safe until now," Troy said. He pressed the back of his head into the wooden encasement. His stare remained focused on the opening of the ladder while his forearms rested on his pulled legs. It was a bit of a dilemma still. Troy was definitely doing something that went against his nature.  
  
__Cristine sat next to him, legs stretched out and her ankles crossed over each other. She rubbed her palm over her loose working pants and puffed some air from her full lips. "And look where I ended up... you all adore me now."  
  
__Troy snorted, the tension on his face slackened by half. That was most definitely right. Cristine was living proof that becoming a member had been more than beneficial. She suffered to earn her keep. More than most would dare admit or go through themselves. They never truly talk about it. They simply cleaned the slate. Licking his lips and feeling an itch in his chest, Troy snuck a glance at her. He found himself doing that more frequently when she wasn't looking. His eyes just automatically moved in her direction when he least realized it until he did. Troy drunk in Cristine's healing face, her long lashes flicking over her dark eyes, her dark brown- almost black curls were undone and hanging way past the collar of her orange-red checkered button-up shirt. Troy pulled his lips in, a faint smile, displaying his reaction to Cristine's truthful comment. "Yeah, I'd definitely say that was an error of judgment on our part."  
  
__"Never thought I'd hear you ever admit something like that." There was a genuine surprise from Cristine when she looked in his direction, eyes squinting with hard suspicion.  
  
__"We tend to learn from the past." Troy pulled his shoulder up.  
  
__In response, Cristine stretched her hand to put it on top of his and patted it. Troy couldn't help but relax, and a tranquil feel spread over him. Glancing at their hands, the size between them was apparent. The feel of her skin was just that bit softer than his. Both their hands had spilled blood—his more than hers. At least, Cristine balanced her blood-soaked ones through nursing and saving people. Troy's just got mucked, soaked, and dirtied as time passed. He didn't care about his actions, just that he didn't taint the last bit of good in Cristine's. Troy came to like that bit of good. He appreciated her caring side more, especially when it was directed at him. He often wondered, with their current bond, how far her care for him went. What were the lengths they would cross for each other? Just as he felt her fingers relax, Troy unintentionally curled his tighter so he could hold her hand longer. His grip was perfect, not too loose and not too tight, and after swallowing, Troy's blue eyes hesitantly flicked back to dark brown staring back. The spark in them allowed him to unclench his muscles one by one. As time passed, Troy was getting to see this fiercely loyal side of Cristine while also discovering new sides of himself and where he stood. He liked when Cristine brushed her hand against his so he could calm down. A squeeze to thank him or the silent eye contact as a signal they'd talk later or that silent support. While most had to do with the stuff, simple friends didn't do; Troy picked up those signals. Trust was critical- and if sharing the bad stuff was what it took to gain all that and more from Cristine, Troy wouldn't play with half-lies. Not anymore. His palm cupped her hand, fingers brushing over the faint lines of the stretched skin of her knuckles. Her nails lightly grazed over the blue veins of his wrist, and Troy silently processed the effect it had on him. It helped to reduce his exploding thoughts and alleviate the rush of adrenaline inside his body.  
  
__"Your recruiting process sounds good." Cristine repeated, her voice as soft as the caressing on his skin, "I think Jake will back it."  
  
__"Of course, he will. It fits perfectly in his ideal world. It's his wet dream. Everyone living in harmony and coming together." Troy didn't see eye to eye with Jake on a lot of things. In particular, when it came to the Ranch's safety and security. Rise above the hate and prejudice when those weren't the things that kept them alive. Helped them go through a war. It was the opposite. "I'd never propose it if it weren't for the situation we're in right now."  
  
__Cristine showed him a weak smile. "I know, but we're also building for something more. Something that comes after the killing and fighting." Troy, his breaths were low and even, occupied with the fine bones of her hand. No one ever really took the time to make sure to listen to him like this. Not really. He wasn't all carnage, bullets, and knives. At least, less since Cristine asked him to live. I asked him to pursue this relationship. Having given it a chance, Troy didn't know he himself hungered for it. It was so basic. But it had made him consider a policy like this. His mind fogged over when Troy tried to remember the last time something as simple as being listened to by someone, who wasn't blood, was so rewarding. It didn't resemble the parental neglect he was used to. Or his more than a decade long friendship with Mike. He didn't have to share what he had with Cristine with anyone else.  
  
__"I guess it's like my father says; if you plan for a future. Plan for a better one." It didn't sound like Troy genuinely believed it, at least for the current conversation. But Cristine noticed he was actually attempting to do this with his own will.  
  
__"So," Cristine began and kissed the back of her teeth and felt her face go warm when the question left her lips, "have you thought about what we talked about? About us?" Breath calm, Cristine sounded more direct and confident even with Troy's piercing stare. His lips parted, but he didn't speak immediately. Silent thoughts passed through his gaze while his eyes softened for a brief second, like a pebble that dropped into a puddle and created a sequence of ripples. That was how the implication and meaning behind Cristine's question registered on his face. Cristine watched it unfold with Troy suddenly looking down, face shifting, and a small smile pulling at his lips with a steady exhale.  
  
__Troy began in an even tone as if he was still coming to terms with what she asked, "I think so. It's just funny given how we started when you think back." His smile was genuine and almost childlike.   
  
__"From fighting and plotting the other's demise to coming up how we can save this place." Cristine snorted half-jokingly with the full comfort of not having to worry about anything else at the moment.  
  
__"We do have top-notch teamwork, if I have to say so myself. I also think you just like arguing with me half of those times. Get my attention and all that." Troy chuckled when Cristine jabbed him in the side and rolled her eyes at the statement. Troy scratched his throat to voice what he really wanted to say to her and made eye contact when lifting his head, "all jokes aside... I uh- I thought about what you said... about you and me and this- what we're trying out." A relationship both heavily tiptoed around and didn't label anything steady, even with so many boundaries long crossed. A statement of ambiguity that told her Troy thought of what she proposed. "I- I don't think it would be bad to test it out. See where it goes."  
  
__"Like an experiment?" Cristine almost wanted to tease Troy. He'd never been this open with anyone when it came to talking about his feelings. Troy never tampered with his dark, manipulative, sadistic, and possessive streaks around Cristine. On the contrary, he was rather direct with it. Like he was free and exploring new sides of him without a care of being judged. But the other sides showed that he cared, showed his feelings, and opened up on a different level. Troy was very reserved about that. It was somewhere buried deep within him but there were flickers of it now. So hearing him use the term testing out and linking that to their relationship made her smile.  
  
__"I mean, if you put it that way." Troy pulled his shoulders up. Clearly trying to mask his cluelessness with nonchalant confidence and bluff that could be so natural and convincing. But Cristine could see through him in the way he spoke and behaved. It was weirdly cute to witness him like this. And just because of that, she wouldn't tease.  
  
__Cristine was curious and asked, "so when would the experiment be successful?"  
  
__"Well... when did you know it didn't work out... you know with your past relationship?" Cristine didn't expect Troy to ask her about her ex and absently fumbled with their hands and fingers. He picked up that she tended to do that when she was self-conscious or just embarrassed.  
  
__"That was different," Cristine whispered with a painfully tight smile while looking at their hands.  
  
__"How so?" Troy was curious.  
  
__"Because it wasn't during an apocalypse for one. And we were together for five years. He, uh- he asked me if I loved him, and I said no. Even after he said it to me, and that was the end of it." Cristine shrugged, but Troy made out how tense her body was, and her face filled with complexities. "I don't want to put pressure on us. I think we've been doing pretty good so far."  
  
__"I guess, but-" Troy's eyebrows scrunched together and asked, "-don't you want to know for sure? If this isn't just the idea of being comfortable and protect each other. I mean, I don't think we need a relationship to determine that."  
  
__"Yeah, but **this**," she gestured at their clasped fingers and sighed, "Is different. I don't do this with anyone else. I **feel** different with you." Cristine raised her eyes and looked back and forth between his pensive ones. A beat later, squeezing his hand hard, she tilted her chin up and brushed the tip of her nose against his. Troy answered the silent beckon and dropped his head. With a shuddering breath, his eyes lowered, and he felt Cristine's fingers brush against the edge of his scruffy beard. Relaxing his jaw, blood rushed to his face, and his chest started to itch again. Hearing how out of breath he sounded as if he ran a marathon; Troy anticipated what came next when Cristine angle her face in such a manner they almost ki-_

_  
_ _"Cristine? Cristine, come in over!" The loud voice on the other end of the line bulldozed through their moment, jolting the two from their personal moment. Cristine sighed with exasperation and grabbed the walkie linked at her belt. Swallowing his annoyance, Troy bit on his tongue when he felt her move away and rubbed his flushed neck.  
  
_ _"Hailey? What is it?" Regulating her heavy breaths, Cristine answered the call with a slight frown on her face. There was a slight irritation to her tone.  
  
_ _"What do you mean? You're late for your shift. Are you alright?"_  
  
_Cristine paused, chewed on her lip, and just now remembered she needed to go. Thumbing the radio, she calmed down and responded coolly, "I got held up. I'll be at the infirmary in five." Looking at Troy, eyes apologetic, Cristine ended the call and complained, "shit, I gotta go." After handing him the walkie-talkie, Cristine Rose and Troy followed her up until the ladder. She paused for a few seconds, hesitated again, and surprised him with a quick kiss on the cheek as a sign of goodbye. It wasn't anything special. Her eyes flickered up and down his features. Troy's eyebrows shot up high to his forehead and his stare fogged over, perplexed. Moving his eyes, they watched the way her lips parted and broke the rapture. "I think your solution to how we can recruit people is good. It'll benefit us one way or another." With that, Cristine gently patted him on the shoulder before climbing down, leaving Troy with a million and one thoughts completely dispersed from his idea and his mind began to grasp that simplistic, almost juvenile act its meaning. Feeling his throat go dry, a breathless sound left Troy's lips.  
  
_ _He was speechless. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys like the flashbacks and flashforwards. I wanted to try something different in my writing and add some context about the way Cristine and Troy's relationship in the time that has passed since the war against the Nation. Also, dang all the interruptions between them from taking that next step :P. 
> 
> Also now you guys have some context as to why Aaron has been an extra assholish towards Cristine :S.
> 
> And Hailey possibly trying to make Andrew see the light...
> 
> Sucky news is that we have an the extended lockdown of at least 3 more weeks in my country and talk of a curfew. Stay safe everyone!


	70. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

"So you'll sacrifice two of yours just like that? It's funny because, uh, Andrew told me you and your men had a soft spot for Cristine in particular." The bones of his jaw twisted at Aaron's remark, but the rest of Troy's face remained impassive.. "I've heard some stories about your trials and tribulations… about the Indian tribe too. I get it, I do, and you'll get no judgment from me. We all did things to help the people we care about— things done for survival. Doing stuff like that with others creates a different type of understanding. You trust them with your life, and that's something no one can take away. So you'll have to excuse my French if I don't fucking believe a word you say. I'm giving you thirty minutes to give me a better offer, or I'll start cutting Cristine's fingers one by one."  
  
"..." It was quiet after that, and Troy set the walkie on the reception desk. The lines on his forehead only deepened as he thought long and hard. Then, as if something funny lapsed through his mind, he began to shake his head at this twist of fate that led to their current predicament. "We brought these assholes right to our front door." Troy went out of his comfort zone and took a chance so they could strengthen themselves. It was something more agreed to, but he himself actually went against his nature and trusted outsiders. "Invited them into our backyard."  
  
"None of us could have known." Cooper was the only one currently with him, watching but mostly waiting for Troy's next move. These people were serious  
  
"Yeah, well, we should have. Now we got a prick who wants all our stuff, or he'll kill two of our medics…, _ and _ they know our location. Hell, I wouldn't be surprised if they know when we take a shit." Rubbing the crease in his forehead with his thumb, Troy tilted his head to the side, listening and looked up at the ceiling as if the answer lay there and commented, "at least Nick and Blake managed to shut down the alarm."  
  
"Should we call them in?" Cooper asked  
  
Troy shook his head. "Nah, only unless it's necessary. They call in first to minimize the risk of attracting the dead. Besides, these assholes are probably listening in on everything. Any luck with the trail?"  
  
"Just as I thought, the sewers system stretches across the whole campus. It's connected with other buildings. We have some pretty solid clues where they headed and already eliminated two directions." Cooper showed Troy the map of the campus and marked a few buildings. It was still too many to check in the thirty-minute mark Aaron had given them, but it definitely narrowed down the range. Still, to Troy, it didn't feel like they were progressing.  
  
"Right, keep following the tracks. Be careful of any obvious clues. I wouldn't be surprised if they prepared booby traps. It's something I would do. I'm going to check the buildings you marked. Maybe I'll spot something from outside... a way out or a chance. I'll think of something to stall this asshole."  
  
  
-

_ Troy grunted when Cristine slapped some ointment on his wound and hissed, "easy with that!" He shifted, eyes purposely raised at the ceiling of his home, so he didn't have to witness those eyes silently glower at him in accusation for handling things the way he did. Troy had his temperamental fits when things didn't usually go his way or when someone, other than his father perhaps, challenged him. Today, that escalated in Troy beating one of their newly vetted community members into the infirmary. Tensions were already high, and now this?!   
  
_ _ "Well, that's too bad. You did this all on your own." Cristine moved her hands over the blooming injury on his hands and cleaned it. Her expression was sour, and the way she clenched her jaw showed her exasperation with Troy. She wasn't even sure how that fight came to be, and she didn't care. Nothing excused Troy beating someone that bad the person most likely suffered from a concussion. Just thinking about it made Cristine annoyed, and she asked, "what the hell pissed you off to lash out like the way you did?"  
  
_ _ Before Troy could give Cristine his answer, the door slammed open, and Jeremiah walked through the front door of his house with Jake and James hot on his heels. "That's what the hell I would like to know too."   
  
_ _ "Dad." Troy got to his feet, and Cristine stepped back too before she looked at Jake and her father. Jake looked on with a severe expression, and her father just nodded in silent assurance. Setting her eyes back onto Jeremiah and Troy, she narrowed her gaze. Jeremiah exhibited his annoyance with his youngest son with a dismissive wave of his hand and a clicking sound of his teeth as he took a seat behind his desk. Cristine pursed his lips when she couldn't help but notice the extreme change in Troy's attitude. It was almost a bit meek, but it dissolved when he squared his shoulders and answered the lingering question, so many of them had, "the inventory of the pantry isn't matching up. MRE's, canned food, and antibiotics were slinking. It seems one of the newbies has a case of sticky fingers. I confronted him, even gave him a chance to come clean. He kept his mouth shut, so I put him in his place."  
  
_ _ "How do you know for sure it's him?"  
  
_ _ "One of ours is checking his cabin as we speak," Troy answered.  
  
_ _ Jeremiah was quiet for a while, thinking deeply and rubbed the bridge of his nose and asked, "how many new people have we recruited so far?"  
  
_ _ "The last one was a week ago and makes six now. And until the incident today, they all do what's asked of them and have worked the jobs we gave them."   
  
_ _ "Wasn't it you who processed him?"  
  
_ _ "Yes, sir." It took Troy a bit to answer; the atmosphere became unsettling, but the bitterness in his voice was palpable when he did. It clearly left a bad aftertaste in his mouth.  
  
_ _ "Dad-" Jake began.  
  
_ _ "It's not Troy's fault." Cristine piped up from the sidelines, not liking the direction the conversation was going. She ignored the set of blue eyes locking in on her face.  
  
_ _ "Oh? You an expert?" Jeremiah's dark glower landed on his new target, who remained unfazed by the older man's jab.   
  
_ _ "I just find it odd that our very first newcomer, who is one of the most well-behaved and disciplined of them all, would do something as menial as steal supplies from the pantry. He's up before anyone else to do his chores. He never complains about a single thing. He eats last out of everyone and even shares his meals with the others. That doesn't strike me as a thief, sir." The last word wasn't said with respect, and it was clear that Cristine didn't give a damn either.   
  
_ _ "Ah. Well, since you're so observant, you might also know which one of them does strike you as a thief?"  
  
_ _ Cristine pulled up her shoulders before crossing her arms over her chest, "all I'm saying is that vetting for new community members was a unanimous decision. We all knew the risks, so it's a bit unfair just to put that on one person."  
  
_ _ "Huh. Well then, young lady, you should know that here we take responsibility for our decisions. That's why, sometimes you have to shut up, swallow your pride and accept that you're wrong." There were a jab and derision in that comment. He had warned them this wouldn't bring any good omens to their Ranch, but he was swayed at the moment by his sons their rare display of teamwork shared leadership. Also, James backed the idea, given all they lost. Rebuilding for a better place. Jeremiah found it naïve, but James had changed with Walker, and the Nation defeated. He'd become more sentimental.  
  
_ _ "Oh, like you did when the Nation knocked on our front door and got drunk-"  
  
_ _ "Cristine!" James snapped in a tune that was both shocked and furious at his daughter's unexpected low blow. He grabbed her by the arm, but Cristine wrung her arm out of his grip and gave him that same judgmental glower as she did Jeremiah. James froze and, for a moment, was simply shell-shocked. Jeremiah still had to register what was just said, but his face went red with rage when he did, and he pointed at Cristine.   
  
_ _ "You better watch your tone girl. You might not like my hospitality or my rules, but you're the one who decided to stay. The only reason you're alive is because of this place and my friendship with your father. Don't mistake your place."  
  
_ _ "Enough!" James snapped his head to Jeremiah this time, "stop arguing like children! We already have our set of problems in this day and age. One of the responsibilities as benefactors of this place is to make sure there are law and order. We have rules in place on how we deal with troublemakers and people who might pose a danger to themselves or anyone else." He looked at everyone in the room and advised reason in this useless back and forth of finger-pointing. "Someone needs to be punished, yes, but we rationally do this. We're not mindless animals. We vote."  
  
  
_ _ "I don't want to hear it." Cristine dismissed Troy and stormed aimlessly along the fortified fences. The scowl on her face was deep, and Troy let Cristine fume and rave. She was angrier than him, and that surprised Troy. Then, he secretly took pleasure in the fact that other than his brother, the woman defended him. For most of his life, big Otto had thrown all sorts of snide remarks at his head, and he accepted it.  
  
_ _ "I didn't even say anything." Cristine had her mouth halfway open, shut it, thought of something, and opened it again to release all her frustrations.  
  
_ _ "Well, you should. Why aren't you angry?" Troy blinked, watching her and listening to her barrage of angry statements and questions. "It's like he was waiting for this to go wrong. What kind of parent blames his child for the actions of others? It's not as if he didn't vote for this too. Did he even show an ounce of gratitude with all you did when we had the Nation knocking on our front door!? While you were risking your life and coming up with solutions to save us, he was getting drunk with my dad and wallowing in pity of their miserably past! It's their fault we were in that hell anyway." Cristine sneered, "Talking about responsibility and owning up to your actions when he couldn't even be bothered to fight and protect this place! It's so easy to judge and spout darwin-like philosophies from the sidelines. You do the dirty work, and everyone else accepts it and goes on about their day." Cristine sucked in a sharp breath and stopped in her tracks. Feeling eyes on her, she wasn't expecting Troy to watch her with amazing shock. She looked back, her face visibly surprised too, and Cristine realized she just went on a full rant. Drawing in a breath, then releasing it, Cristine tactfully crossed her arms and looked away and asked, annoyed, "what?"   
  
_ _ Troy's smile turned into a cocky smirk. The rest of his expression now alight with a renewed energy before he looked in the same direction as Cristine. Hands-on his hips, Troy's eyes dropped to the dry grass. The subtlety of his actions as he registered Cristine's words bloomed a tight heaviness in his gut. That feeling would remain there the rest of the day.   
  
_ _ "He's treating you like an idiot when you're not. He's acting like it's all your fault." Cristine scowled the more she thought of Jeremiah and his weak-mindedness. "I get that the people the militia vets are partially under your charge, but they didn't just go through you. It's not one person who decides. They're accepted only after our fathers or Jake interviewed them and gave the okay. They don't even know where we're located until a week after they've arrived."  
  
_ _ "True, we cover their eyes and ears to make sure they can't detect the roads we take even when we make pitstops or rest. It's a lot of effort to keep the transport as secure as possible," Troy explained.   
  
_ _ "Exactly." Cristine threw her hands up in disbelief and shook her head. They literally made new policies for this particular occasion. Everyone knew the risks, and they all outweighed the pros and cons before coming to a unanimous decision that this was how it was going to be, how they were going to grow for the future.  
  
_ _ "Still, you didn't have to throw all of that back in his face," Troy murmured.   
  
_ _ "I don't care about Jeremiah. He doesn't care about me or my opinions either. He'll get over it." Cristine ran her tongue along with her teeth, and the fire in her belly grew again. "I get that he's your father, and you'll always love him, but I'm not going to keep my mouth shut when he talks to you like that. In front of others? You're not a child. You can be aggravating as hell, and I'm the last one to suck up to get in your good graces. What I will do is pull you aside and tell you the truth because that's what grown-ups do."  
  
_ _ "Or you did all that because you love me. No need to deny it." Troy joked, and Cristine slapped him on the arm for not being able to remain serious for half a minute. She glanced at the corner of her eye and saw the way Troy had that shy smile on his face while looking into the distance. His mood improved, and she felt her lips arch too. "All jokes aside, do you really think it wasn't him who stole from the pantry?" Troy remembered what Cristine said. Surprised by her observant and detailed remarks. "You watched him?"  
  
_ _ "I've been watching all of them. I just get the idea that someone is stirring up things and creating problems. I know none of the people you picked have ever killed anyone." Troy blinked, surprised by Cristine's keen observation.   
  
_ _ "How'd you know?" Troy never told Cristine any of that. His pickings were deliberate. He'd be crazy to take in killers. Killers were a different breed in the apocalypse. In some ways, they were exactly like him. Watching Cristine's expression relax and her eyes tighten that slightest bit, Troy waited for her answer.   
  
_ _ "Because, like you, I can tell. You can see it in their eyes. In the way, they behave and talk. I also know you wouldn't put us at risk by accepting people like that." Looking back and forth, Cristine gestured at his bruised hands and clean face. "He also didn't fight back."   
  
_ _ "One of ours?" Troy's brows furrowed together in slight disbelief.   
  
_ _ "I'm just saying to keep the list of possibilities open. Maybe someone wants to test them or disagrees with the new Ranch policies. It wouldn't be the first time. Or maybe it is one of the newbies. Best to eliminate them from the list first."  
  
_ _ "How should we go on about that?"   
  
_ _ "My dad once told me about an interrogation trick he used when he was still serving. You ask one a question, but you don't make them say it. You make them write it. Then you ask the other the same question. If it matches, they're telling the truth. If it doesn't..."   
  
_ _ "You beat them." Troy finished.   
  
_ _ "Yeah, but we shouldn't. I'm sure what you did gave them quite a scare already. The best I can think of is to question them all separately. Intimidate them a bit, you know?" Cristine wasn't the only one agitated, but they needed to be smart. Reserve their energy on the pragmatic things to solve this dilemma. "What's this guy's name anyway?"  
  
_ _ "I think it was Andrew." _

_ ~ End flashback ~ _

-

Troy had lied.  
  
He wasn't going to check the buildings Cooper marked for clues. That was just to keep Cooper and the rest unsuspecting of the fact that he'd already make up his mind. Those thirty minutes weren't going to enough to find the trail in time. After he conversed with this Aaron and got an inkling of the man's thinking pattern and motive, Troy felt the urgency in his bones. So, he would do what he initially planned all along and go out there by himself. Caking himself with the putrid remains of guts and intestines of the dead, Troy tempered his gag reflexes. It was like a second skin. Rancid with unhealthy and sickening with excrements. He swung his rifle over his body, pocketed a few magazine clips, and double-checked his other weapons. After, Troy walked to the emergency exit and listened from the inside for any suspicious noise before he slipped through the door. It was warmer than inside, and the stench harsher on the nose. It was unbearable. It not only permeated through the air like a cloud of thick smog but inhaling and exhaling left a rancid taste in the mouth and watered one's eyes. It wasn't a single smell either; it was all of the worst odors mixed and vying for dominance. In normal circumstances, the alarming smell would be a reason for any well-thinking person to stop and turn around.  
  
No sane individual would willingly go through a horde by themselves.  
  
His peers often questioned Troy's mental stability, but at this moment, as he walked through the deserted side alley leading to the main grounds, his logic was undefeated. Troy didn't feel that there was anything wrong with what he was doing. His trudge was deliberate and slow as he passed the first couple of dead. The walking cadavers their intelligence were wiped a long time ago. The only signal being their nervous systems, where some basic muscle memory operated and kept them moving without aim. Breathing low, Troy trekked near the outer areas, close near the buildings and other alleyways. Still, he couldn't help but remain fascinated by the infected and the fact that he was walking among them like one of them too. The droning sound was equally impressionable. It vibrated in the air like a high-tension tune that was distinguishable to the death. Their collective throaty snarls as they amassed as a single, functional organism - was just skin crawling. The rush of adrenaline in his veins was hot and cold. His heartbeat was loud, and Troy would even admit that he somehow felt connected to this entity of the dead. For a few seconds, he felt delirious- giddy even. The corners of his mouth raised a few inches. As ugly as it was, this was the first time he'd experience such evolution in the flesh and right in front of his eyes. Troy wanted to hurl from both the stench that stuck around him like a second skin and hair raising sensation in the deepest fiber of his being.  
  
Troy drifted between a larger pack of dead this time. Even with how densely the infected were, it was truly unbelievable how they never hit one another. They served as portable forcefields of their own, even with how high-strung they all were. This heavily stimulated army influenced each other like a sentient being of aggression. Troy felt minuscule and insignificant. It was surreal how he was at the mercy of nature. The only thing he could do was adapt. Troy carefully watched the dead passing in front of his eyes, jaw snapping and groaning at the air. It was like staring in the pits of hell, and Troy pushed down his reflexive urge to reach for his weapon. Tightening his gaze, Troy moved with an adamant slowness and imitated the infected by lowering his head the slightest bit and dragging his body. He felt awkward doing such sluggish body movements, but it had done the trick, and the infected passed him to venture aimlessly as it did before. Flicking his gaze back over and using his height to his advantage, Troy tried to see what else was ahead. It was impossible to see the end of the heard, as it was vast, but he managed to spot an amateurish barricade where not many dead roamed. Scouring his focused gaze on the buildings, Troy pressed his lips together and regulated his breathing. From where he was, nothing stood out. Just locked double doors and empty windows. He snuck a glance at his watch, his jaw set, and the expression on his face worsened when the time registered.  
  
Eighteen minutes left.  
  
Out of nowhere did a chilly crawl up his spine. Troy's body went completely rigid as he suddenly got flanked at the sides. He ground his teeth, fixed his breath, and took out his large hunting knife when a vice, sticky grip squeezed his wrist hard. His body sprung in action, but the body on his left blocked him from finishing his movement. Since just breathing out normally felt like a fatal risky by itself, Troy's eyes twisted in a murderous glint, then saw chocolate brown orbs, not milky white, look straight into his. Blinking, Troy registered that he knew these eyes and the person it belonged too and he nodded in understanding at Nick's 'finger over lip' signal to keep quiet. Troy moved his head in the direction of the body on his left that kept him from taking that fatal swing and saw Blake.  
  
Troy wiped his forehead with the back of his hand when he stepped over a corpse, smearing out the dark oil out over his face. Nick and Blake had led him to a smaller building that read ** 'Campus Police Facility Building.' ** The three men holed up in there for the time being, and Troy brought them up to speed on what happened after leaving. "That goddamn traitor played us since the start. The alarm was a bullshit distraction." Blake ran his dirty hand through his hair. Beneath the surface of his anger and frustration was a worry for his friend, and Blake began questioning Troy, "You know where they're keeping them?"  
  
"Cooper's marked a few buildings, but most of it is still guesswork," Troy answered, shaking his head in denial. His expression was severe, and the subtle tick of his mouth tightening and fists clenching more apparent.  
  
"So you came out by yourself?" Nick asked, visibly surprised. Then he recovered, thinking that anyone would be nervous with one of their own dead and their two medics captured. Troy was pretty close with Cristine. He trusted the woman's judgment on a lot of stuff, so the frustration was different.  
  
"It's better than the alternative sitting on my ass doing nothing. Coop won't figure out their location in time. You two notice anything out of the ordinary?" Troy looked between the two. Their faces were covered in blood. Their uniforms similarly soaked. Blood that kept them safe between a horde of dead. He sighed angrily at the negative answer. Biting his lip, Troy walked over to one of the windows and peeked through the blinders to zero in on the dead. The view was all the same mass of never-ending walking dead. The building's entrances were completely blocked too. Troy's eyelids twitched, and something near the first floor at one of the buildings caught his gaze, and Troy waved his hand urgently at Blake, barking, "pass me your binoculars, quick!"  
  
"What is it?" Blake asked anxiously, "talk to us, Troy."  
  
"It's a flag… flying under a window, probably latched onto it. It's attracting some of the dead too." Troy explained, much to the twos apparent confusion.  
  
Nick straightened his back and stared directly into Troy's eyes. "You think it's them?"   
  
"It's Cristine," Troy said with certainty and lowered the binoculars, and began to settle his thoughts. He walked to a desk and took out the campus map, spreading it over the table. It was one of the buildings Cooper had marked, and luckily it wasn't far. His jaw tensed again. Troy glanced at his watch. "We have thirteen minutes until I need to give my answer to this prick. We can make it." He looked at Nick and Blake again, voice sure and decision-ready.  
  
"Do we know with how many they are?" Blake questioned.

  
"Including Andrew, at least three is my guess. We need a distraction." The groans of the dead were loud outside. "

  
"I have an idea," Nick said and then focused on Troy with a tight expression that was both hesitating and severe, "but it's risky."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It gave me such joy to read all your comments under the previous chapter and that you guys are enjoying all the development and context. The almost kiss was definitely- on purpose haha. But when it happens, it will be really rewarding.
> 
> Also, I was debating whether Troy would stick to his own plan/rules or act on his emotions... and then the choice to have him go out on his own definitely is who he is. We know that half of the times he doesn't use his brains, especially when the situation is stressful and not in his favor. Then, he just acts on his emotions. I think that part will always stay with him. Luckily he has Nick and Blake to back him now. 
> 
> I'd love to read your thoughts again! And what are you guy's expectations and hopes?
> 
> It's a few more chapters until this arc ends, so hang on tight!


	71. Chapter 71

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy! We’re almost at the end of this arc.

It was the sound that first prickles sharply in the ears, and Aaron sprinted in the direction, jerking his boy to a halt when he reached the staircase and looked down. Then, the smell was the second thing that hit him in the face. Aaron blanched - a pack of wasted had managed to get in and were roaming on the floor below. Aaron quickly crouched to his knees, heart thundering and eyes watering from the stench. He quickly heads back to the office where Andrew and Hailey were and burst inside. Andrew was already halfway up, gun cocked in his hand and face severe- he'd heard the sound too. "The Biters broke through. We need to move. I'll get the other one. Call in Vince and tell him to get his ass up here."

"What about the explosives?"

"Leave it! If they do miraculously find their way here, they'll be in for one hell of a surprise." Aaron glared at Hailey, who was visibly taken aback and almost looked like she wanted to cry. "If the girl tries anything funny or you're in a pinch, leave her for the dead."

Andrew gulped and hesitated before giving his answer, but it wasn't convincing. "…Right."

"You can't hesitate, or it's your ass the dead will have. It's them or us, alright?" Aaron emphasized. He knew Andrew was lucky not to have killed a single soul since this started, but one day that luck would run out. It was why he was perfect for sneaking in Broke Jaw Ranch, but in their current predicament, that could get his friend killed. "Andrew!" Aaron his bark started the younger man, who quickly nodded his head, and only when he repeated his answer with more conviction did Aaron leave for the room.

Within roughly a minute, Aaron quickly unlocked the room and stepped inside. As he entered, door ajar, a wooden object, a chair, crashed down on his upper body. It stunned him for a few seconds, and Aaron heard shuffling footsteps closing in on him. His hand didn't hesitate when he swept it sideward, and he heard a grunt, and Cristine's body hit the side of the wall. Baring his teeth, Aaron whipped his head in her direction and, like a cobra, jabbed his hand out and took in a fist of her hair and pulled her hard towards herself.

Cristine's first reaction was to put her palm on top of Aaron's, gripping her hair, so he could not rip them out of her follicles. He was only able to move her head. "You thought you did something bitch!?" His hot breath sweltered in her face, extracting some spit. Cristine slammed her free fist into the weak spot where his elbow flexed and brought her knee towards his groin. Aaron's grip faltered, momentarily losing his strength and rigidity, and that was enough for Cristine to break free, and her body jumped in action. She shot her ten fingers forward and gripped Aaron's head like one did their favorite ball. Aaron was shocked by the unexpected moves and growled when he felt an unnatural tension push deeper and deeper in his sockets. Cristine pressed the tip of both thumbs to stab Aaron into his eyes. Her nails hooked into the white of his eyes as deep as she could, like a bird clawing its way into its next prey.

"GRAAAGHHH!!" Aaron's howl resembled a pig's cry. Cristine wasn't sure if she could keep it up and rammed her knee into his groin for a second time. The man doubled over, his vision red from her nails scratching into his eyeballs. "I'm gonna fucking kill you!" Cristine ignored the cursing wails. Frazzled, gasping for air, she brandished her skinner knife from her sleeve and clamped the small blade in her hand. Aaron was still sprawled on the carpet, covering his bleeding eyes. The damage wasn't permanent. He saw red, in a literal and figurative sense. Breathing hard, Cristine gambled and charged in Aaron's direction again and threw her full weight into the lower part of his body. Aaron was heavier and dug the back of his boots into the surface. He halted their fall into the ground. Cristine summoned her strength in her thrust, stabbed Aaron just above the clavicle, and tore through blood vessels, veins, and nerves in a quick flurry. She pressured through when she heard the bone crack. Still, it was little her against a bulky man now high on adrenaline and numb on pain. A pain he pushed through when he remembered that this worthless bitch had killed his little brother. All at once, through the burning pain in his eyeballs and the blood spurting from his neck, Aaron's gnarled hand wrenched at the front of Cristine's jacket, and he flung her in the direction of the wall again. Cristine's body thundered with pain, the shock paralyzing her for seconds. It knocked the air from her lungs, and Cristine gasped to catch her breath. Her world spun, her attacker's body doubled, and she felt something warm trickle from the side of her head. She searched for her knife somewhere on the floor that got knocked from her hand, but couldn't find it. "FUCKING BITCH! I'LL KILL YOU, I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU!!!" It was the second time Aaron spewed such raw and hateful emotions her way. S back from the aweless and charismatic leader. Aaron got up to his feet. The blood that seeped from his neck was heavy. It drenched the upper left part of his shirt, but the man struggled onward like a behemoth. Cristine clambered over the floor, her body protesting, thick with pain, and hear the sounds coming from her mouth emphasized that. Her legs wobbled, but the wall served as enough support to get on her feet, and Cristine used that as momentum, narrowly avoiding Aaron's severe punch. She heard glass shatter. Aaron threw more profanities and insults. 

"If you come here now, I won't make it hurt." Heart pounding, Cristine swiveled on her feet and pressed her back into the wall, and faced a crazy-looking Aaron. She saw the glint of crazy in his eyes, the damaged blood vessels standing out and giving him the feel of a devil. His hand pressed into his bleeding neck, and he blinked erratically to focus his vision. Cristine's eyes darted around the room and used chairs as a barrier between them. It was a game of cat and mouse and this point. Only the cat was half-blind and injured in this scenario, and the mouse stalled its capture. Both equally exhausted and wounded, they froze for a beat when they hear someone slam open the door from the outside.

"Cristine!" Hailey's frantic split Aaron's attention from the other sister he had cornered. Before he could respond, a lithe body mounted on top of his broad back. Grunting in surprise and caught off guard, Aaron lost his footing by the sudden weight. With an unpracticed and amateurish experience, sharp fingernails raked hard over his exposed wound, drawing blood. Aaron wailed horridly, and his hand shot to the back of his head, grasping Hailey's hair, and his pull was rough. A pitched yelp tore through the teen's throat, but she didn't let go. She tried to hold onto him for dear life, knowing that faltering in her hold would be the end of them. Clenching his teeth, Aaron stumbled back and remembered the wall, to the side slammed himself against it, stunning Hailey on his back. Another painful cry resounded from the blonde, and a surge of pain coursed through her whole body like a shock of electricity. Her muscles all cramped before slacking, and she slid down the floor, whimpering and curled together.

"You dumb brat!" Aaron rose his boot, prepping himself to stomp on Hailey's head. The dull sound of someone running perked his ears. Aaron saw Cristine's murderous expression, a loud cry, and a panic twist on his feet shooting upward. He couldn't register what had happened, but it closed in on his right eye. Andrew howled out in an agonizing cry. Pain shot through his head. The blood spurted out and gushed down his cheek. Packed with a fury that was served by the depths of retribution, Cristine's hand swiped at Aaron's hair. She yanked his head down at the same time that she drove her knee up and broke his nose with a sickening crunch. Logic and reason told her to spare him for intel. But this man was going to kill them- her sister! In her hand, she squeezed a decorative iron sphere that was supposed to mimic a globe. Cristine rammed it down the front of Aaron's face. The impact of the unbendable steel connecting with human bone was not a competition one needed to have. But the slow crack of his nose was still satisfying to hear. She struck him again, using the object as a bludgeon, slamming his teeth. Her anger fueled the force of her blows. Cristine was so immersed in hurting Aaron. She hadn't noticed that across the room, their rescue team arrived. A body flanked her from behind, and for a few seconds, the rules of gravity didn't exist when someone raised Cristine abruptly in the air.

"Let me go!" Arms locked at her side, face hewn with anger, eyes flashing with a raging madness, Cristine made a futile attempt to break free.

"I told you to stand down, Cristine!" The person roared.

"Get the fuck out of my face Troy!" Still high on adrenaline, Cristine attempted to wring herself between his arms that clamped her down as she made a feeble attempt to bulldoze through and satisfy her rage. Face flushed; Troy dragged her out of the room while barking at the others, "make sure all three of them are gagged and tied down first! Blake, check on Hailey! Nick, you barricade the stairs first and guard them after! I'll contact Cooper." It was quite a sight to see Troy giving orders and keeping the fury induced Cristine restrained. The woman tried to claw and kick him when he dragged her to one of the empty rooms and dumped her on a couch. Cristine's body thudded into the padding of the cushioned two-person seater. The impact on her palms and knees was minimal, but with her other injuries, the throw still hurt her bruised body. Cristine got over the pain quickly, though, and scrambled to get up at sprung in action again at an equally vexed and exasperated Troy.

"It's over!" Troy sneered.

"He needs to fucking die!"

"Yeah, well, that's not your damn call to make! Now sit. Down." Troy hissed. A great deal of frustration was behind those few words. He stepped closer and Cristine, who kneeled on the couch, half-drunk off of rage, wasn't very receptive to it. In her eyes, that action looked as threatening as the last few hours she had to stall and use everything she could come up with to defend her and Hailey. Troy narrowed his eyes before his hand snaked around the back of her neck. He heard her gasp and felt Cristine push against his chest. She struggled unconsciously, and the grip on her nape only turned firmer when Troy pulled her face closer. The stretch of his pupils jumped stark against the clear blue of his irises. His tone remained clipped and low. "We got all of them. I need you to snap out of it."

"But he- Haile-"

"Hailey's alive. She's safe..." Troy emphasized, with the hope of bringing her down from the extreme state of energy that would soon turn into something suffocating and stressful. "You're safe." He saw it in the way her muscles were starting to tighten and the watery haze of her eyeballs. Cristine started to scratch at the front of his jacket, but the strength quickly seeped from her body in an instant. She tried to shake her head, confused before her thoughts began to accelerate and molded into a jumbled labyrinth. Her mind tried to catch up with her body's signals. Words didn't make any sense. They were crowded.

Preserving eye contact, Troy eased his hand on her hot and clammy skin and uttered the words that abated all the adverse feelings bubbling within her. "I'm here." It wasn't as if Cristine was stunned or speechless, but she was fighting against her panic. Wide-eyed, her voice choked, thick with pain. Troy watched as Cristine's body crumbled when the last fuel of adrenaline drizzled out. She sagged onto the couch, sitting on the back of her legs, blinking slowly and reorganizing her thoughts. It was quiet. Troy observed the woman and the edge of his lip twitch, which traveled to the corner of his nose, and his pupils stretched, glowing with a budding rage as he witnessed the state Cristine was in. He dragged the low coffee table closer near the couch, and his long legs hit the edge when he sat down opposite of her.

"I'm fine." Cristine's whisper floated out when Troy's hand was halfway up to check the damage. She lowered her chin in reflex. Troy's lips thinned, and his eyes turned beady. He would make those conclusions himself and mutters in a tune that left no room for backtalk, "We'll see about that." When he started at her jaw, Cristine flinched and moved back at the light brush of his fingertips. Troy took a mental note of that. He was going to break someone's jaw first. He just needed to know who. "Which one was it?"

"Does it matter? You're going to interrogate them anyway." Cristine recoiled, but she didn't dodge his touch this time. She just sucked in a harsh breath when Troy identified the marks on her neck. He bared his teeth. The look on his face should have chilled her blood, but it didn't. It hadn't for a while now. But she recognized that dark glower. It didn't have a tint of light. He was in a place of darkness where not even her words of logic were going to abate him. Wincing, she wrapped her arm to her side, breathing through her nose from the stabbing pain in the rib.

"I still need to know who did what, Cristine." Troy's eyes traveled to the place she cradled, and he noted that he'd have to fracture a few ribs too. One of the blunt, steel weapons would do just fine. "So yeah, it matters."

Stopping her quivering lips from the shooting aches, Cristine briefly shut her eyes and exhaled sharply when his wet and rough fingers grazed against the scratches on her face. Troy his touch was deliberately gentle and a stark contrast to his ruthless inquiry to link her injuries to a person without any elaboration as to why he needed that particular piece of information. Whatever he was going to do or had planned in his mind, Cristine didn't want to entertain the thought of giving these people more power. Aaron in particular. He knew her. She still didn't have a clue who that man was, but she had killed someone close to him. How unlucky. "I am not arguing with you about this."

"It's not an argument." His words sounded calm, but they were tinged with the purest rage. "It's payback to the pricks that tried to take what's ours and hurt one of us. So stop being so damn stubborn and tell me." If it were before, Troy wouldn't have explained himself or his motives. But Cristine wasn't just anyone. She wasn't for a while now. They tiptoed around it, yeah, but she was his. And someone had the audacity to hurt what was his. Threaten it. Sully it. Troy couldn't allow that. He wouldn't allow it. Not even from Cristine and her natural reaction to argue with him about bullshit. She was argumentative for no reason. If he needed to confine her until she felt like talking, he would do just that. Troy would be damned if he would look like some weakling in front of others because he couldn't protect what was his.

The sigh of exasperation made Cristine's shoulders drop. She moved from her awkward position on the couch and brought her feet on the floor before stretching her legs between his. She swallowed, throat hurting from the movement. Troy followed the motion and saw how she visibly grimaced. His mind roiled in retaliation, and Troy visualized a torture tactic with a noose and strangulation involved. Maybe even spice it up by timing how long it would take before one passed out and repeat it again, and aga- "Troy," Cristine snapped him from his thoughts. He pocketed the idea for later use. He was watching how she adjusted her expression, failing miserably from the buzzing pain, into that cover of calmness. It was vexing to see. "I know you made up your mind to do whatever you want the moment you dragged me in here. You'll ignore what I'll say other than giving you some stupid names." He felt Cristine squeezed his knee hard. Never breaking contact, and her eyes narrowed. "But don't treat me like some idiot. No more lies. We promised." It was almost an accusation, but it punched right through his psyche. Placating his temper linked to the monster was more often the driver of Troy's actions and emotions when he needed to release his violent anger. In part, he was just the passenger. Today was going to be one of those days. Troy brought his eyes down to space where her legs were situated between his.

Wetting his lips, Troy grumbled with disdain, hoping she would drop it, and snapped, "yeah, well, I warned you I'd disappoint." There was a self-deprecating tone behind his comment.

Half scowling, Cristine snapped, "what's disappointing is you not even trying." She didn't mince her words, even with the purposeful comment that was there to invoke pity. It was shrewd. They never sugar-coated their opinions, and this was not what Cristine needed from Troy right now. She rather he let it go, but he wouldn't. It was personal for him too. So, in return, Cristine wanted honesty even if Troy's truth was selfish. "Tell me why you're really doing this... Tell me what you're going to do to them." Cristine disliked that she had to bargain to scrape out the truth from Troy and offered in a calculated tone, "I'll tell you, alright?" Situations like this didn't happen often, but sometimes Troy's honesty was conditional. It wasn't normal. But it was how he had always operated. Cristine thought that, after putting her feelings out in the open, things would be more comfortable. It just seemed to get more complicated when peeling down the many complex layers. When Cristine confessed that she didn't need to pretend with him, Troy admitted he could be himself around her. She didn't know where it went wrong, but sometimes, Troy lied to her. About petty and menial things too. Like he was testing her. As if he expected that she would give up on him or leave. It felt like Troy needed to test the boundaries of their' courtship,' as he once called it with dishonesty. To see if what they were building was genuine and real. It was very odd given that Troy had tried to manipulate her to keep their friendship intact when he killed the Trimbols.

It was very confusing.

Of course, deep down, it made Cristine insecure opening up when he was dishonest. But Troy omitting the truth now was different. This wasn't petty or little. It was linked to visceral violence with the guarantee to develop into a gruesomeness clump of suffering only Troy could administer. So when he heard her proposal, his eyes cast down, and she thought she saw his lips quirked up at the corner. He relaxed. Reaching for her hand on his kneecap, Troy began to rub his thumb on the back of her knuckles, eyes fixated on the torn skin. When he looked closely, he noticed how soft-looking they were despite their deft and nimbleness. He liked it when Cristine touched him with these hands. So when he remembered that Aaron promised to cut them, Troy would definitely return that promise. Cut them and feed them to his turned buddies. Make him watch how every digit would get eaten. And if the man dared to look away or close his eyes, Troy was going to cut his eyelids. In a way, with Cristine's bluntness, Troy was able to bring his luck into something that was still on the bad side of reason, but he sounded composed enough and sure of himself. "A piece of shit made me look like an idiot in front of my people... in front of you. He and his buddies are going to be the example that that won't slide. It's a reminder."

Cristine opened her mouth. "If you're an idiot in this situation, then I'm one too. We all are."

Troy gestured at her visible injuries, minding how and what he touched, and shook his head. "Nah, it's on me. I'm the one in charge. Something went wrong during the processing, and I should've double-checked. We're lucky we only lost one on our side. I never should've brought you two on this run."

"If we hadn't brought Hailey, I'd definitely be dead." She winced through her soft, forced grin, "I'm alright, Troy."

"Yeah, well, I'll be the judge of that." He said, "It's taking me a lot of effort not to go in there and put a bullet in that prick's brains." His face went taut, and Troy was staring but not really looking at her. He concocted all the horrid things he would do under the guise of 'survival' and 'protecting his people.' While there were slithers of truth to that, Troy was doing this for his pride and to appease his primal urges. He was doing it for himself and Cristine. There was a detached remoteness to his words. "You can't be there during the questioning."

"Why?" Her brows furrowed, and Cristine felt his fingers squeeze her hand. She looked at it and saw the way it repeatedly moved over the back of her hand, knuckles, and down the length of her fingers. Relaxing her mouth, she looked back at Troy with mystified eyes. She was confused as to why he would demand that. They tortured someone together; she was the one that suggested it too. Troy had seen her kill in brutal ways. Cristine was going to moments ago for her and her sister. She wanted to know why this time would be different, why Troy needed her to stay away.

"Because, while what I'm going to do is necessary. I'm going to do more than that... a lot more. It's why I need the know what they did. So they can suffer." He pointed at her injuries and narrowed his gaze. "It's not just about making them talk. It's going to be something else, and I don't-" He stopped his explanation for a few seconds before he found his voice again. "-I rather you not be around that. Around me. Not this time. You need to be with Hailey and the rest while I handle this with Blake and Cooper. My militia." His eyes continued to roil with sinuous darkness that spoke of hidden places of insanity and murder. The sharp exhale in her breath at the dangerous promise birthed a sting in her chest. But even then, she didn't give a damn, and Cristine moved without thinking. Ignoring her body's aching, Cristine wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hugged Troy. His figure remained taut, but she felt his warm breaths shudder in her ear. How weird was it that despite the bloody and mad reality of his confession, she still felt relieved? It was a contradictory feeling, but it was real.

After some seconds, Cristine quickly tried to change the subject and said, "I'll contact home and tell them we're delayed."

"I'm doing this for you too." Troy's voice was soft, not persistent or forceful. It was deliberate and even-tempered, and his words were upfront. Now that he had made peace with the fact that Cristine wasn't going to argue with him about this and came clean about what he would do, Troy felt that the right course of action was to mitigate some of her negative feelings. It wouldn't diminish the physical pains, but Troy hoped there was some solace in knowing the asshole who did this to her was going to pay even if it wasn't her who would pull the trigger. He was doing it for her too. "That's the truth."

Now it was Cristine's turn to look between their legs and swallowed the lump in her throat. She understood Troy's motivations to an extent. Cristine was going to kill Aaron for herself, her sister, and her people minutes ago. She knew that type of drive and fury. Sighing, Cristine moved her hand over her forehead, brushing aside the curls. Having no clue how to react to having Troy point out she was one of the reasons he was going to torture to the extent even he didn't want her around, Cristine rubbed at the dent between her brows in light exasperation. "Aaron knows me from somewhere. I don't remember who exactly, but I took someone of his."

Looking back at Troy, making sure she maintained eye contact with him. Just as expected, his expression tightened and turned severe. Then there was a glower darkening his features, and Troy asked, "remember that trip to that wildlife area? It was your first run with us. We came across those three in the woods." Cristine's eyes flickered as the events of a few months ago came flooding back in, "we fixed one of their walkies so we could follow their tracks, but the signal went dead, and we thought they were MIA. We never heard from them again. You said the last one you killed had a brother, right? Wasn't he the one in charge? Shit," Troy cussed. This crucial detail changed everything. Troy remembered the cabin. Those men had taken Cristine's weapons but hadn't killed her on sight because they wanted one thing first. They were out to rape her. The heavyset frown on his face deepened by the second. "These aren't the type of people looking to make friends. If they have plans for the Ranch… it'll be war all over again. They'll kill the men and our women and children..." Troy trailed off, almost hesitant to say it when keeping his gaze from looking elsewhere but at Cristine, and finished, "they're going to wish they were." His eyes flashed precariously, the repressed emotions almost spilling over like boiling water.

"I took his brother from him," Cristine mumbled. The corners of her lip twitches, complex and humorless. Her fingers tap on her upper leg, eyes sharpened, and her stomach clenched. Then, the heated emotion in her eyes simmered down and switched from hot to cold at will made her collect her thoughts into something logical and equally detached. Troy discerned those subtle signals Cristine displayed. Moving his tense jaw from left to right, Troy went fully still when she said, "I need to be there when you interrogate him."

"No." Shaking his head, Troy barely let Cristine finish her sentence and shut the suggestion down with one word.

A scowl appeared on her lips when she heard Troy's decision, and Cristine was in no mood to argue about this. She didn't understand why this was an argument in the first place. What the hell was Troy acting so anxious about anyway? He was so insistent she stayed out of the picture because he didn't want to see him torture a few people? That would be a first. He already crossed all lines imaginable and made her peace with that. "Stop acting like you know it all. We need him antagonized to get information. We need to know if this is what's left of their group, if they have a base, or how armed they are. Just me being present can help with that."

"I already said-"

"I don't give a shit what you said! This changes things, and you know it." Troy and Cristine were at a deadlock, and she glowered at him, black eyes drilling into his. He couldn't help but think – he'd never seen such dark eyes with so much light inside them. Staring into them, he wasn't surprised to see the ire and stubbornness growing. It was like looking into a depth of never-ending darkness of a small portal of hell waiting to swallow everything up with its imminent ruin. Her mood was one of pure violence and self-destruction. It immediately reminded Troy of their hostile times.

"Watch it," Troy warned her as he didn't like the tone she began to take with him. He briefly shut his eyes, pulling in his impatience at Cristine's defiance. It was like she got a kick out of this backtalk.

"Why?" Cristine asked in exasperation and cut back the sigh, and fought the urge to storm out. Troy watched her frown slacken and tilt her head to the side, exposing the faint purple shades of fingermarks around her neck. It clearly hurt to breathe, and Troy recycled the idea of confining Cristine in the office. She was defying him, and he hated it. "We made peace with the fact that some things are necessary. Whether it's as simple as killing people or complicated as trusting strangers. I don't think for one bit you going to do torture these pricks will be something else… and even if it was, I don't care." Troy blinked at her statement, face distorting into something disturbing, and stayed silent as he made sense of her words. Through his darkened gaze, he began to weigh out her words. "This is my right too, and you can't take that away from me."

"I can lock you up in here until business is handled."

"But you won't," Cristine snarled back and hit him in the corner of his shoulder. Looking away, Troy made a face to show his disdain at her backtalk, and Cristine was just amazed by the boldness of Troy's words and what was going through his mind. "As egocentric as you can be, you know I'm right. Whether we're together or not, and you feel some type of way about keeping me safe... it's what I'm owed. I'm not asking you anything you wouldn't deny others."

"I don't care about others! You're not others; you're mine!"

"Troy-"

"No. Just-" Troy raised his hand to stop her from talking and showed his frustration. He couldn't find the exact words to convey what he wanted to say. Cristine wasn't listening to him, and it annoyed him greatly. "Stop arguing with me wanting to keep you safe. I'm aware my experience with relationships isn't like Jake's, but I damn sure know my responsibilities. I'm not fucking this up how I fucked everything else leading up to this."

"You haven't." Cristine touched his cheek, stopping Troy from his rave. She was a bit taken aback by his outburst, her eyes softened, and she relented, "fine. I'll, try, alright?"

"Try?" Troy arched his brow. Trying still wasn't a concession. 

Cristine offered a middle ground. "Can you at least call me when things aren't going as they should? We're on a clock, and the dead still outside."

"Only if they're not progressing," Troy brought her hand down and squeezed it tightly before gesturing at her injuries. "Now, tell me who did what to you. So I know what to prepare for the interrogation."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? I’m low key loving this side of Troy, yes even the problematic aspects. Cristine is just being stubborn and sometimes blind to see how much he cares and instead focuses on being rational about the situation. Anyway, would love feedback on this chapter, now that everyone is together.


	72. Chapter 72

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a really long chapter, like longest of all my books. So you guys so enjoy.

_ Dressed in his loose working clothing, Troy thoroughly worked to comb through the long strands of barbed wire with his thick, protective gloves. Today was a day where most he was bustling to fortify their walls. It was an ongoing chore, and with so much acreage circumventing their land, it felt like a never-ending job. Broke Jaw Ranch strung out for at least 15 miles, and while most of the property was strung with wire, some parts of the fences were in terrible shapes. Some pastures weren't even adequately fenced and all. Troy and Jake had helped their father build sections of these fences when they were boys, and Troy had done a lot of after-cate when Jake left for college. Growing up, Troy spent countless hours riding to check the cattle, which usually included checking fences or even emergency repairs. They'd collected many old strings, and Troy was very busy with the tedious task of cutting and separating the wires. He felt a slight burn in his neck when he moved it from left to right and pulled the end of his collar up to protect his flushed skin. He looked around him and saw the Ranch bustle with people and activity. Today, they were fortifying the fences, but the entrance gates too. The design was drawn by one of their members and looked simple enough. They transported two iron doors that belonged to shipping containers for the enclosure of the gates. Spiked barrier traps made from wood and metal would be the first defense line to keep mostly the dead out. And they would open the gates from the inside with a unique mechanism manned by the guards. Troy sighed after finishing the next line of knotted wires with some pliers. He'd gotten through a decent length of strings before getting up to help carry the wood and lumber collection for the fortification.   
  
_ _ Troy was so engrossed with his chores that he did a double-take when he heard the rare but familiar laugh of Cristine in the distance. The sun hit his face, and Troy raised his hand to block the intense rays and shadowed his face. Like a lot, she wore her light working clothes and her worn-out baseball cap with her curled signature ponytail hanging out from the back opening. Cristine was talking animatedly and saw the way her profile stretched before her facial expression blossomed into a smile. Troy then looked at the person she was talking to and narrowed his eyes. It was one of the new people, the one with some medical knowledge. Troy remembered when he processed the man. He was a jumpy and nervous type, but he handled himself well enough. The man was alone for a while, so he needed to get used to people again. But like most of the new faces, he did everything to fit in and didn't complain. Troy moved his jaw back and forth and slowly removed the industry gloves while he kept his eyes plastered on the man in question. Before his mind even processed it, his legs moved in action, and Troy headed for the two in a straight beeline. When he came closer, he could make out half the conversation. There was playful laughter within Cristine's voice when addressing her conversation partner, and Troy heard her say, "-I've never done those, and I don't know if I'm supposed to be impressed or weirded out that you did."  
  
_ _ Ethan shrugged with a nervous laugh, "I mean, if you haven't worn a ridiculous costume or not with your friends, have you seen the 'real' San Francisco?" The man was at ease with the nurse, who came off as stand-offish and unapproachable at first. She was still guarded when it came to specific topics, but she was more open-minded than the militia and Troy, the ones who found him and took him back here. She was very open-minded and less wary than the rest, but maybe that was because she'd been out there too.   
  
_ _ "Get drunk with friends, sounds like my kind of scene."  
  
_ _Ethan's eyes twinkled. "It's the cheapest party you'll ever have. I'm surprised you have never done it."   
  
_ _ "Surprised you've never done what?" Cristine was about to answer when Troy dropped a question right between their conversation. It was so sudden it took both a while to recover. Ethan shifted on his feet and buried his hands in his pockets. His gaze almost immediately recoiled from Troy's face. Cristine felt that his sudden intrusion was peculiar but didn't search for anything behind it and answered in a firm voice that showed her repose on full display.   
  
_ _"Bay to the Breakers." Cristine elaborated when Troy looked at her with a blank expression, "It's the oldest consecutively run annual footrace in San Francisco and the world, according to Ethan. It's also the most un-race-like party you'll ever get a chance to attend." Troy still didn't seem to understand the conversation, and Cristine smiled, dimples out, "apparently, Ethan lived in the same area as I did. We were practically neighbors. Just talking about old stuff."  
  
_ _Troy briefly nodded and looked at Ethan with a feigned impression and commented, "oh yeah, you said you lived in San Francisco, didn't you?"  
  
_ _Ethan smiled, but it looked like he had cramps, and the volume of his voice lowered as he answered with a peal of nervous laughter, "yeah, uh, born and raised. A true city guy. Not as well prepared as all of you here at least-"  
  
_ _"Did you see the city get bombed too? Cristine said that the military did it, and we heard similar stories from the few city folks we took in. I just wondered if you've seen it yourself too." Troy wasn't interested in what the man had to say. Just because he and his family interviewed, these people didn't mean he had to like them. He chose based on what he thought was best. And what was best was not taking in killers or other types of degenerates.   
  
_ _Ethan swallowed, looked at Cristine, began to show a frown, and looked at Troy by the change in the atmosphere now that Troy was here. "I, uh, I did. Seen them shoot civilians too when people started to quarantine city blocks."  
  
_ _"Not surprising, people aren't supposed to be put in cages or locked. It goes against our nature, and we fight to make it. But not everyone has that in them, the will to fight. It's usually the city folks, too." Troy held his hand up and quickly said, "no offense to you guys. I mean, you made it in the end. So you're of a different breed."   
  
_ _"Hm, what breed is that, exactly?" Cristine crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Troy with a pointed look, intrigued to know what he wanted to say. The way he had changed the conversation was such a Troy move. Cristine wasn't fazed by them anymore.   
  
_ _"Well, you guys know how to survive and evidently on an instinctual level know what real freedom is. You have to fight for it. Not wait on a government or institution that was always against you to fix that for you. That's why so many people didn't make it and the reason we are outnumbered by the dead. They were weak."  
  
_ _"What about the old people? Or the children and babies. The more fragile people that's not fair to them, is it?" Ethan piped up from the sideline, he didn't fully agree with Troy, but that was most likely because the Survivalists were Libertarians. Ethan himself had to get used to their way of thinking. It fits the world now, but to throw it out there that people who weren't at their prime or different than the people of Broke Jaw Ranch didn't know real freedom or couldn't fight was weak. His parents and friends died. They weren't weak. Hell, they were one of the strongest people around. More vital than him, for sure.   
  
_ _Troy smiled like he heard a funny joke, but it came out as a bit of a scuff, and he looked at Ethan like he was the crazy one. "Come on, Ethan. At this point, we all know it's natural selection. We've been taught that nature always wins. This is Darwinian." After looking at Cristine, Troy faced the man with his shoulders squared and smirked.   
  
_ _"The weak die and the strong survive," Ethan quoted and made a face, looking away.   
  
_ _"See, you _ **do ** _get it," Troy said in a mocking tone. His blue eyes were never leaving the faltering ones of Ethan. "It's just good to have other like-minded people around. I knew I didn't make a mistake processing you for the Ranch."  
  
_ _"And I'm grateful for that," Ethan answered in a harried and distracted tone like he needed to defend himself. A sudden chill crawled over his spine.   
  
_ _"We're grateful you're here too," Cristine quickly said and deliberately took a step in between the two, back facing Troy, and looked at Ethan with a genuine smile and asked, "Ethan remember that inventory issue I told you about with the medicines. Alicia needs help, and I was wondering if you could fill in for me," Cristine was sure she heard a sound from Troy but ignored it. She kept her eyes on Ethan and smiled when the fidgety man looked between her and Troy. The tall militia leader was hovering behind her like a shadow. Then, he found comfort in the fact that Cristine was giving him a way out of the nerve-wracking conversation ignited by the bizarre militia leader. Troy suddenly invited himself into this harmless talk and turned passive aggressive. Ethan could see that the two were close from their interaction, at least on a professional level, but he had the feeling it was more than that. He was going to back off now whether it was true or not. No use butting heads with Troy over a pretty girl.  
  
_ _ "Uh, yeah. Yeah, of course, anything to help." Ethan scratched his throat and dismissed himself, and walked in the opposite direction.   
  
_ _Cristine watched Ethan leave and sighed. She closed her eyes to ease her budding irritation when she heard the audible scoff followed by Troy saying, "I didn't know mousy Ethan was that talkative. He seems like a decent conversation partner. I should talk to him more often." Cristine swiveled in his direction and stared up at Troy with disappointment, and her eyebrows bend together.   
  
_ _"What the hell was that all about?" Arms still crossed, Cristine made a vague gesture with her head in an inquiry over his behavior. She didn't hide the annoyance on her face with him either. "You don't constantly have to stalk and intimidate the new people. We've established that Andrew was framed and didn't steal the supplies. Ethan wasn't the one who did." Troy's expression was bored and carefree, a clear sign he didn't care to converse about Ethan anymore. He was just a bit ticked that she was taking the other man's side. And seeing Cristine at ease with someone she barely knew created a tight feeling inside his chest. She and Ethan seemed to have a lot in common, too, coming from the city and all. Troy didn't think Cristine was this naïve. "Listen, I know you have to get used to this change in policy, and I'm not saying you should trust them a hundred percent, but let them pull their weight to earn their keep. They're here now. You chose them for a reason, and I trust your judgment."   
  
_ _Blinking, Troy parted his lips slightly, and he briefly looked in the direction where Ethan headed when a faint smile flitted over his lips, and he asked in a somewhat accusatory tone, "so why'd you lie to him?" Cristine frowned deeper, and Troy brought his hands to his hips, lifting his chin and looked very smug, "you don't drink. Hell, you don't even do parties." Cristine huffed and looked elsewhere. Troy found it amusing to see that, yes, Cristine was on the fence but added a white lie so quickly to get to know someone. She was one of the people who wanted this new policy to work in their favor, but this guarded disposition sounded more like Cristine. The tight feeling in his chest didn't feel as constricting anymore now that he puzzled the pieces together. Still, he'd had to keep an eye out for Ethan and the other new blood. "So does this mean you're the good cop, and I'm the bad cop?" Troy cocked his head.   
  
_ _Cristine rolled her eyes and did a shallow shake of the head before answering, "it means I've got this, Troy. You and the guys already scarred most of them before they even set foot here. I am hospitable."  
  
_ _"I have manners. I've been hospitable," Troy added, and it made Cristine pause. Her eyes squinted in sync with her tightly drawn lips. Her stare was blank, and her silence screamed skepticism. Dark brown eyes repeatedly flicked up and down his figure as Cristine sized him up.   
  
_ _"Y'know what?" Cristine asked rhetorically as if realizing something and answered her question. "I'm not even going to get into this with you. You need help?"  
  
_ _"Don't you need to be at the infirmary now?"  
  
_ _Cristine snorted and uncrossed her arms. "I would be, but Ethan's checking the inventory." With that, she passed Troy and chuckled with a shake of the head. Troy looked over his shoulders and followed her. Troy grabbed an extra pair of work gloves and pliers lying around. He stepped next to Cristine and slipped the necessities in her hand, and put his gloves back on too. Flexing his finger, Troy showed her parts of the fence where the wires stretched. They crouched down together on the ground while Troy explained to Cristine what needed to be done for the far-reaching anterior of the barbed wires first.   
  
_ _"Before we shore up and fortify, we fix these first." Troy lined his fingers around the loose hanging wires that were elongated by the occasional wildlife going through. "Just weaving a bunch of sticks and branches as stays are enough," Troy explained and demonstrated the process, and Cristine looked at his hands intently. "You just alternate which side of the wire the next stick goes on, like this." Troy added more sticks at certain parts until he took all the slack from the loose wires."   
  
_ _From the corner of her eyes, Cristine looked at the side of Troy's face. He was so immersed in explaining and showing her how to detect where the wires needed to be strengthened. She could shamelessly watch him without him having a clue. She did. His profile was partially limbed by the sun, and there was a rare leisure air around him despite the strained focus on his face. Cristine partly brushed Troy's behavior with Ethan aside, but she had to get over the fact that Troy just acted out of petty jealously because she was talking to another guy. A feeble smile was on her lips, and Cristine looked at the sections of sticks and branches and asked Troy with curiosity, "So what else could we use to extend the life? Sticks and branches look fragile." She said and touched the saggy wire where Troy was still busy to stiffen up. Helping with the walls was something she had done a handful of times, and their fences were still a work in progress. If they had better alternatives, the upkeep wouldn't be as extensive, and their time and workforce used for other pressing matters.   
  
_ _Troy wiped the tip of his damp nose with his shoulder and explained logically. "Well, we usually _ _fixed our fences to keep the cattle in and the wild out. Not stray dead people making it through." Troy rolled his neck from side to side from the accumulated strain of being in the same posture for so long and briefly lowered his gaze, and his mouth tensed, and brows rose. "But I agree, we need something more viable for the long run. The gates and spiked barriers at the front are just the starts. I think we should dig some trenches at the front. There are a few fortification methods we could use. Most require wood, and wood burns easily. So I thought of using roof sheets with wooden support beams to hold them up. We'd have both the height and adding guard post… I'd say we'd have pretty decent walls." Troy finished, and when he looked at Cristine, realizing she'd been staring at him, he asked, "what?"   
  
_ _"Nothing," Cristine answered with a cheeky and unrestrained smile with her dimples out in full. Her eyes were alight with an enthusiasm that made Troy suspicious. She surprised him when he felt her lightly brush her gloved fingers against his and Cristine's left arm pressing into his right. Troy slowly exhaled, and his fingers twitched in response. "Sometimes, I forget how good you are at this."  
  
_ _"It's nothing special." Troy almost wanted to scoff at how weirdly complementing Cristine was out of nowhere.  
  
_ _ "It is," Cristine said, voice firm, and searched for his intense gaze to make sure that Troy knew that the things he did were rare and required not only skill but insight. Raising her chin the slightest bit, she saw Troy's stare turn odd. "That's why you're known as the nature boy of this place."  
  
_ _ "Whatever," Troy's snorted and smiled as specks of light danced in his irises until the baby blue swallowed it whole. _

_~ End Flashback ~_

"I should get prizes with how often I get my ass beat on ru- ow!" Cristine hissed cut off her comment when Hailey helped to stitch her split lip. After Troy left, anger rolling from his body in waves, he sent Hailey here to tend to her sister. Cristine sighed and looked at her sister focusing intently on her wounds. It was quiet for a bit, well aside from the droning of the dead nearby, the sisters relaxed in the silence. "How'd you get out?" The question leaving Cristine's mouth was one of puzzled curiosity.  
  
Hailey cut the thread, and her blue eyes finally flickered up to her face. She raised her shoulders to her neck before rubbing the side of her arms. "He had his guard down, and I took my chance. They underestimated me from the start, and I think that helped too, so I played my part and waited until I had an opening. Aaron left a box of office supplies, and when he said we needed to move, I grabbed some scissors. Andrew he- he hesitated for some reason. I-I didn't think, stabbed him in the leg and came for you." There was still tension in her voice as she told her surprised sister the story. Cristine then grabbed Hailey's hand and squeezed it when she felt the quiver. Staring at her sister's downcast face, her grip turned firm and gently brushed some locks from Hailey's flushed face. Rubbing her cheek with her thumb, her sister sighed before looking up again. Her irises glowed with an array of different emotions that were bundled together and kept her body tense. "I know I'm not like you or Nick, but that was the best I could think of at that moment."  
  
"I would probably be worse of if you haven't done what you did. I guess having most of the attention on me was good for something after all. I- I didn't know what to do, honestly. I just hoped the others would come in time, and they did." Cristine shook her head. Maybe if it were just her, she'd take more considerable risks. But she kept thinking about Hailey. "I couldn't risk you getting hurt because of something I did. You saved me."  
  
"We saved each other." Cristine briefly smiled, a painful one at that, and Hailey squeezed her hand back in response.  
  
  
  
-  
  
"What's the situation?" Troy looked at Nick first, and he began his debrief.  
  
"I led the dead we used to bust into the other side of the buildings sealed of the are. The front door is barricaded again, but that did manage to stir a big part of the horde its attention at our current location."  
  
Troy nodded, but he didn't look bothered or nervous by the news. "Well, we know now that we're able to use the dead to our advantage, even control their movement if we're walking with them. Blake?" Looking at Blake next, Troy crossed his arms over his chest and listened to the man's summary.  
  
"Cuffed and gagged all three of them. The one waiting in the basement put together explosives near the sewage... I dismantled it. So Cooper and the rest can head our way without any problems."  
  
"Good, I already called Cooper and told them where we are..." Troy shifted on his legs and, after debating it for a while, shared Aaron and his vendetta with Cristine.  
  
"Son of a bitch." Blake's face turned severe. "If they are still operating the way they are..."  
  
"Wait, you guys came across these people before?" Nick interjected, confused.  
  
"Killed three of theirs in the end. They took in like-minded men and unwilling women. We managed to fix one of their busted walkie-talkies and used that to track their whereabouts. Then, one day, we lost the signal. Back then, they were a bigger group... maybe they're still active, but we'll know for sure after we question all three of them. This Aaron was- is the one calling the shots."  
  
"So what's his beef with Cristine?" Blake asked.  
  
"She killed his brother. Andrew shared pretty much all details he heard."  
  
"So, when you say questioning them... what were you thinking of?" Nick scratched his throat when those cold, piercing eyes flicked his way. Troy was quiet, but it was a gaze he was all too familiar with. Nick had been on the receiving end of it at the military depot. When he tasted death, they'd lost Travis in the, and Lucy left for the border.  
  
Troy was blunt and honest. There was no hesitation or second-thought when elaborating. "intimidation, use them against each other, torture, whatever method is effective to get our intel. The Ranch is compromised, and we need to know who we're dealing with. If these three are part of a bigger group or if it's just them. I need those answers." He looked between Blake and Nick, but more so Nick and explained the interrogation method shared with him, courtesy of her father. "We question them separately, so they can't influence each other and match their answers. That way, we see who's lying and who isn't. We're not leaving until we have all the intel."  
  
"And the dead outside?" Nick gestured outside, "what we did, leading the dead the way we did was risky, but not impossible. We can do it again… at least breakdown part of the horde and move them away from here just to be safe."  
  
"Alright, Clark, that'll be your charge."  
  
  
-  
  
Body drenched, Aaron groaned from the unbearable pain that throbbed in his head, face, and jaw. A searing heat set at his collarbone. And every time he attempted to move, it just didn't feel right, and a muffled moan escaped his lips. Blinking through injured eyes, Aaron's nostrils flared, and he tried to focus through the fog. Dazedly, his waning stare gradually sharpened, but he realized that there was a burlap bag covered over his head, shielding his eyes from the vision. Whoever was on the other side, though, must've noticed that he was waking up and, in a swift motion, pulled the covering aside. Squinting by the sudden bright light flashing in his gaze, Aaron jerked his head aside. While readjusting, Aaron could sense more than one person inside the room and tensed when he heard the callous order echo in the quiet and dank-smelling room. He braced his body for the sudden hail and found himself glaring up at the rusted pipe where a rope was wrapped above him and pulled taut from the other side.  
  
"Hang him." Troy's tipped his chin upwards when two of his men pulled at the end of a thick rope and, with that, Aaron's full weight. With his hands tied behind his back, he couldn't do anything but struggle like a fish searching for water. Since the bulky man was the reason for the bruises around Cristine's neck, Troy would make sure the man paid back in full. He wouldn't deny that there was a sadistic glee in doing this as well. The grunting and struggling sounds were loud, and Troy allowed it to stretch some more seconds before wetting his lip, smiled, and spoke, "did you know there are multiple ways to go through hanging? There's the strangulation, the standard drop, and the long drop. Since you're quite a big doing the standard drop or long drop would be enough to snap your neck." Aaron's struggling started to lose its vigor as the oxygen began to cut down from his brain from the way the rope pressed against his jugular. "The second method is strangulation. It's the most common form of suicide. The noose slowly tightens around the neck, and you begin to suffocate. I read that victims most likely suffer for about 10 to 30 minutes because the jugular is pressed, preventing oxygen from reaching the brain. The heartbeat rises and pulse through the brain and then death." During his explanation, Troy looked at the two pulling at the rope in the corner and silently signaled them. Immediately, Aaron's body dropped to the ground in a loud thud. The man dry heaved and coughed with the pressure gone when freed from the claws hanging just a few feet above the ground. "Ngh!" Aaron grunted when he felt the short pull at his locks and was forced to look his assaulter straight in the eye." I'm usually one for offering the sick and the wounded mercy, but you're a special case, Aaron, and will be treated as such. That's why I thought that strangulation is more fitting for you."  
  
"Wh-… she? "Aaron hackled a few more times and caught his breath. Troy cocked his head to show that he was listening. Heaving through the pain, he asked the question he obsessed over for the past weeks and asked, "whe-re's Cr-Cris…tine?"  
  
Troy's lips parted as he let the inquiry register. When it did, Troy looked weirdly at the beaten and battered man. There was a slither of familiarity with how focused Aaron was even in the face of death. At the mercy of others. Lowering his gaze, his grip on Aaron's hair twitched, but Troy didn't do more than that. A scoff that was a mixture of disbelief and amusement slipped past his smile, and Troy raised his eyes again. "You think you're in any position to focus on others. Worry about yourself."  
  
"C-cut… the b-bull k-kid…. I kn-know h-how t-this is g-going to end. No u-use begging. S-she needs to ah!-"  
  
"She doesn't need to do shit!" Troy hissed and jerked Aaron closer to him. The latter could see the slow-burning ire simmering in those piercing blue. The militia leader's muscles were rigid, and his jaw was pulled taut. He was looking closely at their subtle reactions to his few words already managed to rile him up.  
  
"Oh come on, Troy, you c-can't get angry a-at me… I-I'm going to die," Aaron reminded him. "At least- let me s-see a pretty g-g-girl before I leave this sh-shithole. She's a spitfire... just my type. I th-think Cristine is your type too." As insignificant and brief as it was, Aaron showed Troy a crooked grin, a few teeth missing or half-broken. Troy wasn't smiling back. He remained still with a look on his face that began to shift to the wrong side of reason. "I get why. They're the ones that fight back... the most fun to break... also the one you can trust to have your back and do what's necessary, am I right? A woman like that is definitely," Aaron whistled, "bet the way she's in bed-" that was it. Troy slammed Aaron's face into the concrete floor, and the fury raging within his veins surged all at once. His anger was swift, and when he realized he'd knocked the man out cold after several more blows, he snapped out of it.  
  
"Shit."  
  
  
-  
  
"Any luck?" Cristine looked over her shoulder to see Nick standing at the door before walking inside the office room. He joined her at the window and peered outside. Cristine lowered the walkie-talkie and shook her head. "Bad reception?"  
  
"Thinking of trying the roof." Kissing her teeth, Cristine watched the mindless infected in their sun-bleached clothes and voiced her gratitude at Nicks, ingenuity. He'd save the day. "You're our hero Nick."  
  
"It's nothing special."  
  
"It kind of is… doing what you did. Taking such a big risk not once but several times. I don't think even I would have thought of- let alone do what you did." A shy smile spread over the youth's mouth, and Cristine playfully nudged him in the arm.  
  
"Yeah, I think I passed my hazing and am officially part of the inner circle. No more doing the dirty jobs and watching the others enjoy it like a bunch of assholes."  
  
"Aw, now you're days will be filled with who is more alpha than the other… good luck with that." Nick rolled his eyes, and his smile faltered when he saw Cristine do her best to hide her aching. Remembering the way Troy had dragged the writhing women from killing a bigger man than her, he couldn't imagine what she'd gone through.  
  
"Well, Troy's the one who saw the flag. He knew for sure it was you… it was a smart move."  
  
"It was the only thing I could use… that and the knife Hailey managed to hide. I didn't have a choice. I couldn't risk Hailey."  
  
"You'd risk yourself?" When Cristine pulled up her shoulders, unsure of how to answer, Nick was both surprised by the callousness of it. Cristine must've seen his expression and smiled.  
  
"It's not like I want to die, but I'm prepared I will one day. I mean, seeing the way people die nowadays… that could be my fate too."  
  
"Are you saying that because of this asshole?" Nick still felt that there was something else Cristine wasn't quite admitting. He might not be the person she wanted to share that with, but he had the idea it might have to do with Aaron and her actions. "I don't know all the details, but you defended yourself. It sucks that the aftermath is directly in your face, but they were bad people. Don't beat yourself up over it."  
  
The concentrated frown on her face relaxed that slightest bit, and Cristine rubbed a palm against the top of her pants. The jolt of pain it sends through her skin cleared up her mind. Half a beat and a wan smile later, she rubbed the corner of her eye. "That's just it, Nick; I don't feel bad. I stopped feeling bad when I stopped counting. I stopped counting when I reached the double digits, and that's excluding the people I've indirectly killed because of some plan I proposed or ploy I backed."  
  
"Well- it sounds like you think about it often enough." Nick shifted on his feet, not knowing how to react to something like this. He was probably one of the few in the militia who hadn't killed a living human being. Nick didn't know what he would do if he got stuck between a rock and a hard place. Even Lucy had commented he wasn't a killer. But it became a possibility the more runs he went on.  
  
"It comes to mind when I remember how far I've come and that I wouldn't be with my family or have my home if I hadn't. Hell, if Troy weren't so infuriating and controlling about every little thing, I'd gladly help with the interrogation.." Cristine shook her head.  
  
"Let's try the roof and see if we get a decent signal from there." Nick didn't have any words to help the woman with her demons and changed the course of the conversation to something else. Maybe it was just her adrenaline speaking or something else, but there was that same uncanny darkness in Cristine's gaze he'd recognized in his mother… and in Troy. Nick rather not feed if he didn't have to. It was a darkness that reminded him of his days as an addict.  
  
  
-  
  
"Troy. Uhm… do you have five minutes?" Pausing in his step when he heard the female voice, Troy glanced over his shoulder and looked Hailey up and down. He left for some fresh air after knocking Aaron out cold in a bout of rage. The asshole had probably done it on purpose too. To stall and annoy him. He wasn't going to let him dictate the pace. It was one of the things Cristine had told him to be careful when finding balance. Finding and maintaining his self-control. He was the one with all the cards. He had the human resources to coordinate it how he needed it to. So when Hailey called out for him, he felt some of that level-headedness return and welcomed the distraction.  
  
Hailey wrung her hands together and rubbed the back of her neck. Troy straightened his body and looked down at the younger Gerrard with curiosity. "How's Cristine?" Troy asked.  
  
"I think her ego's more bruised than anything. You know how stubborn she can get to make a point." Hailey made a face before she brushed her hair behind her ear. "But she's keeping herself distracted. She and Nick are trying to find a signal on the roof."  
  
"How are you holding up?" Flabbergasted, Hailey's mouth opened, but no words left. Troy rolled his eyes, "I know what human decency is… no need to act surprised."  
  
Hailey flushed and stuttered, "No. It's just… I didn't think you'd care after-"  
  
"After questioning my orders?" Troy saw how the teen pulled her neck in and made herself look smaller than she already was. He wasn't one for sugarcoating his words and made it a point to let her know. "You were excited and wanted to prove yourself… I also get being compared to your sibling can be aggravating." Big, blue eyes flicked back up, and he saw the faint surprise in them. Troy looked away and said, "Let's not make things complicated. We respect each other's territories and expertise, alright?"  
  
"Alright." Hailey nodded, and a tiny smile crept up her lips. "With that out of the way, I think you should know something that might help. It's a bit risky, and I feel bad suggesting it, but seeing what they did to us… what they were planning to do and can do. I think you should know something about the jumpy guy, Vince." Troy furrowed his brows, and Hailey answered the question he had in a quick, "Blake was there too, but I found track marks on his arms, and they looked fresh too."  
  
"'What're you suggesting, Hailey?"  
  
"I'm just saying you're able to use this as an incentive or something." Hailey shrugged. "They killed Emma-" she sucked in a harsh breath. There was a hot glow in her eyes. "I don't want this to be a repeat of the Nation, and one of us end up like Mike and his family."  
  
Troy absently nodded his head, barely fazed by the mention of his best friend he'd murdered in cold blood. A secret that would stay buried forever. Distracting himself by looking at his knuckles, Troy asked, "you know something strong enough that'll entice him into talking? I can't have him high he doesn't feel anything or with his heads in the clouds."  
  
"You'd need the short-acting opioids. Symptoms begin after 8-24 hours after the last shot. Codeine, Fentanyl and Oxycodone are a few you can use with a low dosage." After listening to Hailey's explanation, Troy was highly impressed by her willingness to go as far as to use someone's weakness like this.  
  
Troy asked her, "how do you know so much about all of this?"  
  
"I had a friend from back in the city. I just read some things by myself since I didn't get it." Hailey quickly explained, and Troy left it at that. He didn't quite believe it, but he trusted her knowledge in this and let it go. It wasn't his business anyway.  
  
"Right, bring what you can to in thirty minutes to the office room at the end on the first floor. Keep it between us." Troy nodded and began to walk to his next location. He took the stairs to the first floor. One person guarded the door, and muffled sounds came from inside the other side. Troy opened the door, and the first thing he heard was skin beating skin before his eyes landed on Blake's fists colliding with Andrew's face. Troy saw how Andrew dropped to the ground and hackled and coughed from getting the wind knocked out. He was the next person Troy personally wanted to inflict a hellish amount of harm upon. It was this rat's fault they were in this predicament. Andrew was the one who compromised their home and put them all at risk. With his thirst for blood still rushing high in his system, Troy cracked his knuckles at his sides before drawing close.  
  
"Make sure he stays conscious, Blake," Troy reminded. Blake smirked at Troy, and for a second, it looked like he was heeding Troy's words only to slam the tip of his boot into Andrew's stomach and spat on their traitor. It was personal for the militia too, where camaraderie and brotherhood were central. They had a bond and, once accepted, trusted each other with their life. They needed to in these dark times, so this betrayal just hit differently. "What do you got?"  
  
"Andrew doesn't feel talkative today." Troy heard Blake's response, and his face shifted. His lips twitched like he held back his laughter. Making a faint turtle face, Troy slipped his hand in his lower right pocket and took out an item he still used, but not as extensive as at the start of the apocalypse. Tapping his thumb on the black, leather covering, Troy asked Andrew a question the latter would know the answer to.  
  
"Do you know what we did with the people who didn't make it through our interviews Andrew?"  
  
Andrew tried to ignore the splintering pain in his body and glowered up at Troy, callously looking down at him. His heart sped up a little, and he almost recoiled. One of the few people he could genuinely understand was the youngest Otto member. Troy was off and peculiar, and Andrew had no idea what set the man off other than the little bits he heard from others and what he'd seen as he observed him during the times he could. The metal taste on his tongue was harsh, and Andrew spit a mouthful of saliva and blood on the floor and sneered in a condescending tone, "let me guess, you killed them to not to risk your precious Ranch?"  
  
Troy stopped tapping on his journal when he heard the mocking answer and chuckled with a shake of his head. "Just defending my people. Like you did for yours, right?" Cocking his head, Troy stared at Andrew strangely and thought deeply. The cold glint in his deep blue eyes lightly faltered, but there was this standoffish and odd ambiance surrounding Troy. Andrew couldn't explain it, but inside Troy's gaze lurked a curiosity that made his heart pound. "Since I wasn't the one who processed you, I never recorded your stats." Andrew's eyes fogged with confusion, and Troy clarified, "BMI, medical history, allergies anything worth mentioning really."  
  
Andrew narrowed his eyes and looked between Blake and Troy; he kept his voice firm. "What do you need all that for?"  
  
"You see, we didn't kill people for the sake of it. Everything, even insignificant, has a purpose. Even a person already half-dead. If someone wasn't fit to join, I made sure their deaths meant something. I documented most of it." When he saw Andrew barely react to his explanation, Troy licked his lips. He needed to drive fear and despair into Andrew's core, so the man understood his predicament. Also, Troy hadn't run any experiments on live subjects for a while.  
  
"Is that supposed to scare me into talking?"  
  
"Interrogation is Blake's charge. I'm simply curious. Knowing your stats will help me determine how long it'll take until you turn. I estimate around 80 minutes, a few minutes quicker than me. It has a purpose knowing how long it'll take for you to turn. You'll know how long you're able to down with your friends and family. Sure, you have anomalies in between, but on average… my formula is pretty solid."  
  
Andrew held his breath, quickly alternating his gaze between Troy's unfiltered explanation and Blake's unfazed reaction to it. The way both of them stared made the top of his head tingle, telling the more in-depth story of people who could easily step away from all emotions and humanity. Step away from empathy to a place of psychopathy they labeled as logic and reason. People like that chose to analyze the situation from the point of view of being drunk on power, uncaring of the pain it created or the consequences. Consequences that didn't matter in this apocalyptic world anymore.  
  
"B-Bullshit." Andrew stuttered as he stared at the young leader of soldiers. His throat tightened, and he searched around the room for an answer to dispute Troy's claim. Licking his split lip, Aaron slowly adjusted on his knees but slouched back pathetically because of the continuous pain in his beaten-down body.  
  
"Science isn't bullshit," Troy chuckled, "a smart guy like you should know that. Nature rectifies without bias. What's happening now was always supposed to happen in one way or another. We just didn't think it would be the dead coming back to life. So I made sure we researched that thoroughly. Coming back varies for everyone. While I don't think you or your buddies will add any new insights to my records, adding more data increases my calculations' accuracy. I still think we might learn something. We did with your buddies we encountered in the woods, well, two of them, at least. The first one to go was so badly mutilated, we had a hard time figuring out his face and all. I think Cristine said one of your buddies turned in ninety-one minutes. She timed it right after killing him herself. It was kind of personal."  
  
Aaron zoned out and felt his stomach clenched. Troy was the definition of a mad scientist. The people around him were no better. The last thing he would guess was these people out here experimenting on human beings. Was that what happened to Ben, Joey, and Dan months ago? Troy must've seen his face blanched when registering everything and tilted his head, "I won't make the promise that the interrogation will be painless since I told my men to be thorough, but I can offer you mercy and make your end as swift as possible." Andrew's wide peepers darted back and forth into the desensitized eyes, looking at something other, and he braced himself when Blake took one of the blunt weapons and heard Troy give the man some pointers, "make sure you aim for the ribs first, Blake. It's how he caught Cristine off guard."  
  
"Got it, boss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to write from different angles this time and highlight other relationships. Also, how are we enjoying the rest? Troy's personal sadistic vendetta to see all these people pay for what they did to Cristine, especially Aaron. Also, what are you guys thinking of Hailey scheming with Troy of all people?!


	73. - Cristine & Troy -

Cristine said she would try and listen to Troy. So far, she had. Cristine kept her mind occupied with other things. But that was until she caught Hailey sneaking around with medicine she, Blake, and Cooper collected. When Cristine heard what Hailey planned, it infuriated her even more. Cristine was currently waiting inside the two-part office room where her sister and Troy were supposed to meet up. The other room was where they kept Vince, the drug addict, and their best chance to extort answers from. Sighing, Cristine rubbed her wrinkled forehead wearily as she thought back to her confrontation with Hailey. She couldn't give her a proper explanation of what the hell possessed her to get involved with the idea of torture. It wasn't who Cristine wanted her baby sister to be, ever, and of course, it ended in a full-blown argument where Hailey stormed off in a fury and accused her of being the biggest hypocrite. Absent-minded, Cristine rolled the small bottles in her palms before setting them on the lab table with the needles and looked at it oddly. Hearing voices at the front door, one from the guard and the other, she recognized as Troy, Cristine straightened her posture and planted her palms on the counter. Her expression tightened, and she put forth a mood of seriousness.  
  
The door handle moved and the door opened in a jerk. Troy stepped inside, and his eyes landed on her in an instant, unsurprised. The guard outside told him she was waiting for him inside, and after unclenching his jaw, Troy shut the door behind him. After the faint click, the silence birthed an uncomfortable atmosphere that was as equally tense as it was challenging. Neither of the two moved or looked away as if doing that would declare a winner and a loser. A few more minutes passed, and it was Cristine who finally broke it and her hands clenched around the edge of the workstation. "So, tell me again why I shouldn't be around for interrogation, but you have no problem possibly overdosing a junkie together with my sister behind my back?"  
  
"I didn't ask her to," Troy shrugged and leisurely walked to the opposite side of the workstation Cristine stood at and checked the supplies Hailey promised to bring. "She came to me. Hailey is a big girl and can make her own decisions. You need to stop coddling her."  
  
"Don't!" Cristine's nostrils flared and hurled that single word at him to throw that accusation, that felt like a piece of hot coal, back in his face. She raised her chin slightly, her eyes tightened, and Troy saw the harried blinking of her lashes over her dark eyes. The muscles in her face began to twitch, and Cristine squeezed the next words out, "don't you dare tell me how I need to protect my sister when you didn't even think of telling me."  
  
"Then don't get angry with me because you feel some type of way. Hailey felt more at ease to come to me directly than do it through you." Troy saw how Cristine flinched and knew he struck a nerve. He knew Cristine longer than today, and even before they got close, Cristine's love for her blood, especially her sister, ran deep. He'd often envied that fierce connection that was laced with love. He didn't have that. But at times, that same love of Cristine was suffocating and obsessive at the wrong times.  
  
"You should've told me." Troy sighed, rubbed the indent between his brows with his thumb, and shook his head in disbelief. "She's my sister, Troy."  
  
"Yeah, and you also said that if she weren't here, things wouldn't have ended the way they did. It's like one moment you want her to understand what's out here, and then the other, you keep her on a leash when her knee gets scraped. She's alive. You both are." Something faint stirred in the depths of his gut again—it was the same as when he had to drag Cristine to the other room and make her stand down. Cristine wasn't just restless about everything that happened. There was more, and while she relented to his request, Troy felt she didn't. Not really. He could pick apart that mask she put on more quickly. He sensed that there was something more violent behind her anger. Troy commented in a low murmur, "you've been acting off. This thing with Hailey is just an excuse for you to argue." Her eyes told him so. They glistened hot with a myriad of emotions and cracked the indifferent mask on her face. There was still Cristine's quick switch from hot to cold, and Troy saw the facade almost crumble in front of his eyes if she hadn't turned around and walked in the direction of the window. Clenching and unclenching his hand, Troy steadied his breathing. Serenity marred his features for a brief moment before he approached Cristine until he was an arm's length away and paused in his tracks when Cristine said in a shaky voice.  
  
"You should have let me kill Aaron." Her voice was a bitter whisper.  
  
"Why?" Troy asked, brows furrowing deeper, and tilted his head.   
  
"Because I killed his brother," she answered, voice low and balancing on the edge of self-deprecation. Cristine didn't turn around, and Troy wondered if she held back the full extent of her anger when he denied her this right he would've given any other person. "And because I killed his brother, he was going to kill Hailey. He was going to make me watch him do it."  
  
"Did he say that?"  
  
"No, but that's what I would do if I were in his shoes. It should be me."  
  
Troy frowned and said, "Why? Because you have this fucked up sense of responsibility and guilt, all this is your fault in a way? That's a load of crap Cristine, and you know it." Troy didn't sugarcoat his words and assured her, "it might be some pretty messed up type of fate, karma, or whatever you want to call it. These assholes got what they deserved. They came looking for trouble and couldn't handle it when it bit them back in the ass."  
  
"Look who's talking, Mr. I should've seen this coming from a mile away. We're both two idiots in over our heads." Troy's lips stretched despite themselves, and now that he listened to Cristine's relatable thoughts, guard down, he couldn't help but feel more at ease. And like the greedy person that he was, Troy watched her tense posture relax. She lowered her guard, giving him the okay to slither between the cracks. Troy swallowed before he acted as a silent buffer. This time, it was different from when he checked on her physical pain. Cristine needed emotional support, and by extension, that meant she needed him. When Troy was a few inches away, Cristine finally turned around. Bruised face, she raised her head and heard her inhale more steadily despite the raw vulnerability in her eyes. He watched the brown in her pupils stretched.  
  
"How's the questioning going?"  
  
"Slow. Nothing concrete yet." Blue eyes remained on her face, and Troy's jaw tensed and relaxed as he raised his hand to slide it near the raw, bruised area of her neck. Cristine looked uncomfortable from the pain, and Troy elaborated in a low murmur, "Blake broke Andrew's ribs, and since Aaron is into choking, I'm making sure he gets his fill by hanging him... repeatedly." Troy watched Cristine closely and noticed how her lip twitched before her eyes swept at the locked door where Vince was. Troy ghosted the tip of his finger near her jaw when she looked back up at him in silent question to vocalize what he was had planned for the man that kicked her in the jaw. "Since we need him to be able to talk, I was thinking of breaking his fingers instead. Then I'll make sure I'll break his jaw next." Troy mused dismissively and with concentrated violence.  
  
Cristine sucked on her lower lip and briefly looked anywhere but at his eyes. Talking about lives that weren't part of their community, but as risks and threats were routine. It didn't scare her. It was normal. The fact that Troy could share this so freely with her, yet refused her to get involved or be around him when he did those things. It confused Cristine. Her breaths were low, thoughts occupied with deciphering what the right approach was. She already asked, but Troy didn't give her a clear answer. "So why are you telling me this? Why isn't this the same as you not wanting me involved or around you?"  
  
Troy pursed his lips into a thin line and retracted his hand like she'd burned him by asking that question. "It's different." Cristine's eyes were plastered on his irises to find the signs of Troy being truthful or not. Conspiracies, lies, torture, deceit, and cover-ups. She'd done all that, supported others doing those things, and more. A lot more. Troy was there most of those times. He'd been the catalyst for a lot of it, and suddenly, it was an issue for him. It wasn't like Cristine wanted to do these things, but it was what bonded her and Troy. It's always been the violence that connected them. Now they maneuvered through that, and new feelings were involved.  
  
"Why? I've seen you do worse," Cristine chuckled in exasperation, reminding him of his past actions. Troy killed a lot of people. Even killed his own. He called it science. Survival. Triage. And to a degree, that might all be true for him, but Cristine witnessed that side of Troy when they hated each other, turned into comrades, became friends, and each other's closest person. The lines of morality during those stages blurred during those stages. They were pretty much nonexistent with the incident of Mike and his family. But they overcame that. "You've seen me do worse." Cristine cut back a sigh. Troy watched her frown slacken and tilt her head to the side, exposing the shades of fingermarks around her neck. It hurt to breathe, and Troy recycled his idea of confining Cristine until this was all over and he had what they needed. "We're way past all that, Troy. We made peace with the fact that some things are best kept as secrets. So no, I don't think for one bit that what you're doing right now or are going to do is something else. It's the same as before, and it'll be the same after them. Even if it was, I don't care." Troy blinked, face distorting into something disturbing, and stayed silent to make sense of her words. Through his darkened gaze, he slowly registered their meaning. Cristine must've had an inkling of where his thoughts were heading and added, "I'm not leaving the Ranch again, Troy." The surprise on his face was brief, but Troy visibly put on a more relaxing front when Cristine made that promise and found no insincerity to her claim. It reminded him of when they first came across Aaron's people, and Cristine had left for her outpost. For some reason, it droned through his mind that she would leave. That's why Troy wanted to be the one to do all of this. He was doing it for her. "I'm not leaving you."   
  
It was a severe confession that send Troy's mind spiral a thousand miles per hour. The fact that Cristine admitted that with no lies or deceit involved. Troy was a product of his environment; the majority was the fault of his neglectful and abusive parents and the violence around him since he was a child. Yes, he had this brand new relationship. Yes, he had more authority over the Ranch. Yes, his militia was where it needed to be. But, lately, his mind continuously circled back to him and Cristine. In particular, to the aspect of them being together as a couple. A familiar voice told him Cristine would leave him eventually and get fed up with him. He could ignore it initially, but his mother's condescending voice got loud as things progressed. It beat against his skull incessantly. His mother told him his goodwill and loyalty didn't mean a thing. He'd fuck it up. Like he always had. Nothing he did meant a damn thing, and it's why the people close to him would leave. He'd fed and cared for his mother, but she cussed and hated him until the end. Cristine wouldn't be any different. She had left once when he showed her his goodwill back then. What would keep her here now? Pursing his lips, Troy shook his head, brows furrowed. "How do you know? I still can't control it. And when time passes, you'll leave, as she did." That's what his mother had done on her deathbed. She hated him for his loyalty and welcomed her death. She left him even when he did all of that for her.  
  
"Like who?" Cristine wanted to reach for his cheek to make sure Troy snapped out of his sudden dark thoughts, but he grabbed her by her wrist, and her face twitched. Troy had been acting out of place ever since he and the rest saved her and Hailey. It was the first time Troy's response was so heavy and bizarre, even for his standards. And that was saying something. Cristine drew closer, making sure she kept some type of contact with Troy, as distracted as he was. He didn't shy away from looking elsewhere. As if avoiding her gaze meant that he'd lose this battle. It wasn't in Troy's nature to surrender without a fight, even if right at this moment, this wasn't a battle. Her lashes raised inch by inch with the increasing proximity of their bodies. She had an idea as to why Troy behaved like this. Hell, he screamed it in her face as an entrenched fact. You're mine. It wasn't the first time Troy stared at her similarly. When he thought she didn't notice him watching her from afar or hid it with one of his awkward jokes. He was terrible at hiding it. His experience with being open, let alone vulnerable, was clumsy and peculiar. She dare say even insecure. Cristine pressed her lips into a straight line that showed her determination. Despite Troy's inadequate response, she didn't back away or get angry with him. "Whoever you're talking about, I'm not her." Cristine reached between them to touch the front of his jacket and moved her hands up with that claim. It was a carefully slow but deliberate action. She didn't rush. Troy swallowed, almost recoiled from the touch that had a different meaning than their usual touch. It was like a game of tug and war happening. Cristine's palms rose to either side of his torso, chest, and his shoulders. "And I'm telling you that I won't leave you." With every spoken word, Cristine coaxed him to open up.  
  
"I don't-" Troy clenched his brows together when she touched him, feeling the parts where her hands move flare. "Don't," he ordered when Cristine shifted closer. Troy grabbed her wrists but didn't pull them down. It wasn't tight enough to hurt this time, but he held them firmly in place. As if he prepared himself for an attack. Troy's eyes never moved away from hers, suspicious by her actions.  
  
"If you didn't do what you did and made these calls, as risky as they were, we'd be dead. That isn't losing control. That's you doing everything to save us." Cristine her voice shook, and she whispered, "you saved me." She pressed her forehead against his and sighed. "I didn't know what to do." Raising her gaze, Cristine squeezed the front of his uniform and twisted the fabric. The prickly smell of blood embittered her complicated feelings, but it also made her say what's been on her mind these past hours coupled, "I just counted on it that at least you'd come, and you did." Feeling his grip relax, Cristine wrapped her arms over his shoulders and pulled him in a hug. She inhaled and shut her eyes. Rubbing the tip of her nose in the crook of his neck and giving herself the comfort, things were all right. Cristine angled her head in such a way she could press her lips in the side of Troy's neck and kissed it over and over. She didn't think about it, but the action surprised both when it registered. Maybe it was to comfort herself, Troy, or them both. It was more an act to calm the nerves.   
  
Cristine quickly put some distance between them with slightly stretched eyes. Holding his gaze, a steep silence passed. Neither of them moved. Cristine looked like she got caught doing something she shouldn't, and suddenly there was an unexplainable hesitation around her. Feeling that she should take a step back, Cristine broadened the distance to fix their space boundaries. But when she did, Troy immediately stopped her and trained his intense gaze on her face, her eyes until the blue of his flicked to her lips and quickly, albeit tensely, back to her eyes. His jaw relaxed when he carefully felt her hand slide from his wrist and creep under his jacket sleeve. Troy moved his free arm a bit to feel the brush of her fingertips, the contact something he'd gotten used to and sought out whether conscious or not. Troy had gotten very familiar with this side of Cristine over time. Hearing her boots on the floor, she moved closer again, but this time with no hesitance. Their chests almost touched, and with her gaze raised, Cristine palmed her hand on the inside of his forearm.  
  
Troy exhaled. The pressure in his body slackened as the silent moment passed.  
  
Cristine pushed her lips out to stop them from quivering and her mouth twisted into a tight line, making sure she kept Troy's gaze while searching for any aversion he wanted her to stop. There wasn't any, and she felt him return the squeeze as his finger pads brushing alongside her skin. From the hard look in her eyes, talking still managed to boil all of it down to certain emotions Troy recognized for the most part. Trust, care, and loyalty. He held onto that and stopped his mind in time from labeling Cristine's responses as anything more than that and silently leaned closer to meet the light tilted brush of her nose against his. Lips part, his dyspneic exhales synced with her soft ones and felt her angle her face in a manner they almost kiss. Their mouths were inches apart, and it was Cristine who tipped forward to close the distance completely.   
  
Closing her eyes, she softly brushed her lips over Troy's and threw their minds in disarray from the contact. Her palms slid behind his neck so she could pull his face down. Leaning over, with his back curved, Troy eagerly kissed back with a desperation that was clumsy and lacked experience. It had the feel of a fixed assignment he needed to accomplish. Troy tested the right angle and the right amount of pressure of his mouth on top of Cristine. His lips were initially hard on hers, unyielding until they slowly relaxed when Cristine moved hers and gently sucked on his lip. She felt the rapid beat of his pulse on her palms that waived to his neck. Troy slowly but gradually slid his hands down and thought it was just right on her waist. Cristine accepted all he gave her and pushed upward, weight on the front of her feet. Her heart thundered against her ribs when she realized at one point she was pressed between the hard wall and the slanted body of Troy. A brief pause allowed air to invade their lungs when she moved back. Electric blue eyes are piercing and pools of dark brown glowing with desire. Breathing hard, Cristine felt his palm and fingers linger near the base of her throat. She closed the narrow space between their lips and kissed Troy again. It was a bold and direct act of want, all intentions bare. A soft noise escaped the back of her throat, akin to a gasp when she felt his fingers tighten at her neck with the barest fraction. Gently pressing her palms against his chest, Cristine pushed Troy back and ended the noisy kiss. Their breaths were loud, out of sync, and Cristine's eyes glittered. Troy's expression was a rare sight to behold, and she moved to look into his eyes. Her breath shuddered, and fingers trembled, but the way her thumb stroked the outline of his cheekbone just underneath the faint scar under his eye was tender. Troy grabbed her wrists again but didn't push them down this time. His mind raced, his skin tingled as if being pricked by a thousand tiny needles. It wasn't an unpleasant feeling. It was the complete opposite, and his mind ran over the ways to register every detail.  
  
They kissed.  
  
Troy slightly shook his head, feeling his throat go dry, a menial thought passing before a breathless sound left his lips. It was half out of surprise and half just she'll shocked with a little excitement. Troy was speechless.   
  
"Yeah," Cristine answered the silent claim. She didn't know what reaction to expect. At the moment, it just felt right to kiss Troy. A short chuckle escaped her vocals with open disbelief. They finally kissed, and it left her amazed and out of breath. Cristine joked, "third time's definitely the charm."  
  
Troy blinked, his gaze alternating between her intense eyes and swollen lips. "Y'know," he looked at his fingers wrapped over Cristine's skin and curled them firmer around her wrists, not to hurt, but to keep his attention there instead of having to see her expression when he whispered his confession. His mouth twisted into a wry smile, "no one's ever kissed me like that." Whether Troy felt ashamed or worried when sharing that particular detail, Cristine couldn't tell. But the way he admitted that with a shy grin... Troy rarely took such a leap to unmask this type of vulnerability, let alone voice it. Even in front of her, he often put up this front that he needed to prove something. So hearing him say this, Cristine felt her stomach flutter.  
  
Cristine was quick to add, "I wanted to for a while." She saw his lashes shield his eyes from his downward gaze, and Cristine squeezed the warm skin of his nape where her hands lingered. "Not that it should matter, but you're the first person in a long time I really wanted to kiss again." Troy raised his eyes. The usual blue of them bright because of the light. The information came as a surprise, and Cristine wasn't sure to be offended or laugh. What else did Troy think about her? That she was some kind of pro in this? A relationship had been the last thing on her mind, and it still crept up to her like this. With everything that happened today, acting on all these feelings and showing that too sealed the deal for Cristine. She hoped it did for Troy too. She only ever had one real relationship in her life, which had been Cristine's longest one. This was nerve-wracking and intense for her too.  
  
"Yeah?" His tone, careful yet curious, allowed Troy to undo his hold on Cristine slowly. The slight tilt of his head, cocked eyes that seemed to search for traces of a lie slackened when they found none. Troy would even say Cristine was flustered, which was surprising to him since she was usually the bolder one. Cristine showed Troy many things that were new and unfamiliar. He'd experience things that were lacking in his family. So seeing how nervous she was when admitting that she'd wanted to kiss him... that he was the first person in the apocalypse she'd wanted to do this with... Troy just had to ask.  
  
Nodding, Cristine whispered, abashed, "yeah," she felt her skin tingle from the heat that settled in her face. Troy was staring so intensely, Cristine tried to steer the topic to something else, "Nick- he, uh- he told me you were certain it was me who put the flag out."  
  
"Yeah, cause I was sure only you would do something, anything, to give us a sign."  
  
Cristine finally whispered her apology for today, mainly when she was arguing with him, "I'm sorry about before. You do a lot, Troy… and I'm not talking about today. I'm talking about the militia, back at the Ranch, and everything that comes with it." She licked her lips and looked in his eyes, and confessed, "it's just- it's been a while since I felt safe around anyone. But that's what you're doing for me." She felt Troy bury his fingers in her loose curls and cup the side of her face with his palm. He visibly relaxed and stared like he wanted to make sure that the words spoken weren't a lie. "You make me feel safe." Cristine's chest tightened, and her throat clamped up from his solemn stare, but she didn't recoil or feel embarrassed this time. It was Cristine who beckoned Troy closer and sighed in another deep kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They finally did it!!!! 
> 
> Aside from this being my favorite chapter written for obvious reasons, I really enjoyed delving deeper into both Troy and Cristine's emotional thoughts, their insecurities, the pressure they put on themselves and the building blocks of their rather questionable relationship. I hope I was able to bring all of that to life here. 
> 
> When you guys have come down from your emotional high like me, please do share your thoughts about this chapter! I want to fangirl with you.


	74. Chapter 74

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the long wait you guys. This is a chapter with a lot of stuff happening and characters interacting with each other. Based on the word count, I managed to squeeze three chapters into one.

Hunched over the workstation, Troy looked at the identical markings on the separate maps. Blake and Cooper were in charge of Vince and Andrew's interrogation while focusing on Aaron's questioning. He had less luck than the others, but luckily for them, the other two were weaker than their leader. One a coward and the other an addict. On their own, the trio was unreliable as hell, but separately asking them specific questions and comparing those answers yielded the results Troy was looking for—tracing his finger from their current location to mark the way up north to a couple of miles from here. It wasn't even that far either—half an hour with a vehicle.  
  


"We can trust what they're saying?" Troy looked up, staring at Blake and Cooper with a curious face.  
  


"I don't trust these pricks one bit," Cooper answered with a scoff and lined his hands around the front of his tactical vest and gripped it. Despite his reply, he did place perspective and elaborated, "but I don't think mine's lying. Drugged him up enough he'll be begging for another shot soon." Nick was also in the room and winced before shifting uncomfortably on his feet when he heard Coop. It felt out of place being in this environment and hearing the others talk about torture and killing people quickly, using everything they could without caring about the world. Nick was the odd one out. His gaze traveled in Cristine's direction, who stood at the other end of the workstation, next to Troy, and with her face lowered. The way she barely reacted to the other's conversation established that all of this was normal for her too. He'd known, but seeing Cristine so in place send a faint shive up Nick's spine. Cristine must've felt his gaze because she looked up from the maps and her intrusive, dark irises like pair of onyx gems. He saw her tilt her head and called his name in question.  
  


"What?" Nick jolted in surprise and looked confused before looking around the room. He realized everyone was looking at him with expectation.  
  


"I asked how evac with the dead is going?" It was Troy who repeated his answer, sounding impatient, and Nick puffed out air through his puckered lips and rubbed the back of his neck. Troy slid his hand on his hip and tilted his chin back to listen to his explanation.  
  


"I managed to split a part of the horde and led them to the road. I made sure they headed away from here. It won't be long until the rest follows. I'd give it a few hours until they're all gone."  
  


"Still can't believe you did what you did outside Clark. Didn't think you had it in you." Coop's analogy brought back some lightness among the five of them.  
  


"This tops what we did when we played possum."  
  


"Possum? You mean you guys played dead?" Nick looked between the quartet, and Troy was the one who answered.  
  
"Yeah, we cut down a lot of corpses, piled them up together, and buried ourselves between them until they passed. Masked ourselves with their scent," Troy explained and slipped his hand on the top of the work desk again. What he'd done today, walking together with the dead, was probably at the top of his list of crazily beautiful things he did. Troy experienced this force and power of nature at that moment. He'd do this more often for his curiosity and how to exploit it in full.  
  
"That was insane. I think we were in there for hours. Felt like the smell stayed on me for days, even after cleaning up." Blake winced, remembering that terrifying experience. He could joke and laugh about it now, but at that moment, it was horrible. But he didn't have that dreadful feeling today, maybe because they did it to protect their own or perhaps because he'd already seen a lot.  
  
"Alright," Cristine drummed her fingers on the table, cutting the men's little bonding moment short. "If you guys are done being mesmerized by the dead, we can wrap things up. You sure about this?" She looked at Troy, being that he had the final say in this.

"It's not far. And if what Andrew says is correct, a place like this will help us in the long run. Like what the military base did for our fuel supply." Troy looked at each person in the room and gave them their orders. "Blake, Coop, keep the interrogation going. Try to get as many details of this place as you can until you feel they don't have any. Nick, you switch with Cristine and help Hailey transport through the tunnels back to the laboratory building. I want to load our vehicles in one go before we leave. I'll check in with Big Otto." Cristine rolled her tongue behind the back of her teeth, inwardly surprised by Troy's order. He must've had a reason to make this sudden switch between her and Nick. She waited until Blake, Cooper, and Nick left. Her face remained severe but unruffled, and she twisted her body to look at him. Troy was half-focused on the map, but his eyes occasionally flicked to their corners at Cristine. When he cast a final glance at the door, Troy cocked his head and pointed his finger on the marked map where Aaron and his group of three had their little hideout. "This place will solve our water problem," Troy whispered, and the hard thinking lines on his forehead deepened. Going here could solve a significant problem that would get out of hand if they didn't find a feasible solution.

Troy commented, "of all the places, who would've thought their hideout was a brewery?" Cristine glanced at the map. Factories were well-known to use a lot of water. They'd have tanks filled with them, maybe even trucks for transports. The weather hadn't been on their side, and Ranch policies were slowly shifting when it came to their water reserves. They lost most of their bottled water when Jake handed it to the Nation, and their well was drying up. It was only a matter of time before it would turn into chaos. "Better than that Bazaar you guys spotted. At least, for now, I think. We won't have to put down the cattle or ration." Cristine leaned her body on the workstation some more and stared at the profile of Troy's tense face occupied with a thousand and one thoughts. "You're worried." Her statement snapped him from his bubble. He looked at her before a deep sigh left his mouth, dejected, and his shoulders dropped with the movement.

"I want to even out all the shit that's happened. We owe it to the people back home."

"You're worried about your father." Cristine often kept Jeremiah out of their conversation. Just like Troy didn't bring up James. They were both protective of their parent even with all they'd done, even if both fathers lacked in that department. Cristine was just able to set her boundaries more strictly than Troy. It was because he'd only had the Ranch, whereas Cristine left her home when she went off to college. But deep down, there was still that need to seek acknowledgment from their fathers. It was an exhausting cycle, but in this world, family was all one had. It was one of the few sure things. "Remember when you said it was a load of crap to feel responsible about all of it? You're handling this in the best way possible, Troy. You can't do more than that." Eyes flicking back and forth between the locations on the map, Cristine said, "this will save everyone back home. You're saving all of us right now." Wetting his lips, Troy listened to Cristine. All he ever wanted was to protect his home and his family. Serve his people from this mad world, so hearing Cristine stirred a deep sense of pride inside of him despite their predicament.

Troy rolled the map and let the doubt slide from his shoulders. Doubt would be his downfall. Right now, they were the ones out here, and his father would understand. He had to. Clutching the front of his sleeveless tactical vest, Troy met Cristine's gaze directly this time. It didn't make him any less angry to witness her bruises, and Troy offered in a low tone, "I thought about what you're owed, and you're right about Aaron." Cristine showed her surprise through stretched eyes when Troy elaborated, "it's why I switched you and Nick. It's your right to end him." Hearing that Troy rethought his previous decision elicits nothing but appreciation within Cristine's gut. She relaxed that little more. That's all she wanted. "But I want to do it together."

Cristine braced her expression when Troy offered that so naturally. For him, that was a sign of goodwill and made up for the fact that they argued about bullshit before. Kill a person together for the sake of making up in a sense. It ironically fit their relationship, and anyone else would find it perverse. Stretching her palm over the surface of the table, Cristine brushed her slim fingers over the back of Troy's knuckles. The eye contact they held was strong and unwavering. Breathing out, Cristine challenged the situation with an open statement, "we need him angry."

Troy's eyes narrowed and an indifferent and equally cold glower set in his gaze. He proposed ruthlessly, free of any hesitation that was on the same wavelength as Cristine, "the only thing that kept him motivated was to meet with the killer of his brother get his revenge. It's only logical we use that anger and resentment."

"He hasn't said anything useful?" Troy shook his head and shifted slightly, and Cristine noticed a slither of unwillingness when he slowly retracted his hand. Irritation blanketed his features in the manner of a tight frown. Cristine took a step closer and raised her chin. Eyes of blue locked with her dark brown. Troy clinched his jaw, and the very action was imbued with the lethal aggression of the unpredictable side of him when things didn't quite go his way. "What is it?"

There was a slight pause since Troy was forming his thoughts and said darkly, "the way he talked about you... I was going to kill him. I will whether we get answers out of him or not. We have most of the intel from the other two."

That was a promise, and Cristine pursed her lips in wonder before she voiced her question. "Is that why he's out cold right now?" Troy didn't nod or express his answer. It was clear that he did, but Cristine didn't cast judgment. She slipped her palm back over his hand again, trying to take the edge out with the simple gesture. Troy's tight facial muscles lessened, but he didn't speak. His gaze was cutting, but more in the sense of adjusting his rage that simmered continuously since this whole ordeal. Their silent stare-off alleviated some tension, and she shook her head, "he's still alive, and I agree, we should use Ben's death. But it sounds like he's going to waste our time. Even when I'm there."

"I'll think of something," Troy assured and gestured at the door and unclipped the walkie-talkie from his pants. "I'm going to call my father for a debrief. Check-in with Randy to see if Aaron's starting to wake up, then come to me. I want us going in there together after we agree on our interrogation method."

-

"Shouldn't you be questioning Andrew?" Shortly after Cristine confirmed with Randy that Aaron was still out cold, she bumped into Blake. Everyone was occupied, so when she saw her friend peering out the barely cracked open window and rubbing his bloody knuckles, she walked straight up to him. Her crisp question was almost accusing, but Blake didn't take it to heart. It was a luxury to relax now without all the blood, torture, and killing, and Blake enjoyed his short break and the faint breeze that slipped in.

"Just letting the prick marinate in the suspense and anxiety." Blake watched how Cristine rubbed her hand to her side saw how she silently winced. "Troy wanted me to break his bones in the same spot."

Cristine sighed, and a stained red tugged her vision towards Blake's knuckles. The skin was ripped, and every so often, he rubbed at it. When Blake covered his bruised hand with the other, Cristine met with sheepish blue eyes. "So I've heard. How are you doing?"

Blake shrugged and leaned against the side of the wall while looking outside, "While Nick and I were heading back, we saw Troy out, and I knew it was some crisis. Then, before I knew it, the three of us were walking with the dead like we were part of their horde to save you and Hailey. I don't know. I tried to wrap my mind around it. I think I'm still shaking, but I'm also not. I can't really explain it."

"That's called being fearless, and you saved us not once, but twice doing what you did." Cristine nudged Blake in the side of the arm and reminded him, "that takes a lot of courage."

"Aw, were you worried about me, Cristine?"

"Shut up; I know you definitely were."

"I was," Blake answered, tone and expression serious. He lowered his gaze to the floor. The severity of his expression matched his face, and his words were sure. "We're family, and I'd kill for you. You know that, right?" He looked back at Cristine. He saw how the words registered, and her expression softened. She nodded in understanding. It was quiet for a while between them. Blake kept his attention sharp by continuing to rub his knuckles with his fingers and scratched his throat, "so did Troy change his mind?" Cristine arched a brow, and Blake explained, "about killing Aaron?"

"Yeah, but he wants to be there too."

"Hey, that's progress, you know that, right? Troy barely changes his mind, especially when he feels like his authority is questioned."

Cristine nodded and rubbed her palms against her pants in a back and forth motion. "You're just saying that so I won't argue with him."

"I'm saying that because I don't want you to argue with him about petty stuff. Today was a close call, and we lost one. I think we can save the brunt of you two going at each other's throats on our asses for another day."

"Aw, are you looking out for me, Blakey?"

"Whatever. Now, are you going to help me bandage these or not?"

-

An hour later, the sun began to set outside, Troy decided they would stay the night. It was impossible to believe so many things had happened in just a single day. They were betrayed by someone they took in. Trapped within a horde and forced to hole up and wait it out while Nick and Blake risked their lives to go out. They lost a militia member in the process. Cristine and Hailey got kidnapped and bargained for supplies. The group set in a simple system, and pairs of two were required to keep watch. Finally, Cristine received news that Aaron woke from the violent comatose Troy knocked him in. Waltzing through the halls in a quick stride, she found Troy and paused at the entrance of the half-open door, and peered through the crack. Cristine didn't go in right away but looked inside to see him sitting hunched over the worktable and writing vigorously in what she guessed was his journal. The last time she remembered seeing Troy write inside, she joined the militia on their experimental runs with the dead. A heat spread to the tip of her fingers. Cristine clenched her fist near her stomach. She forced herself to be realistic and rapped her fist on the door before walking in.

"Aaron's awake." Troy's head shot up and seemed a bit caught off-guard by the presence until he saw who it was and visibly relaxed. He quickly finished documenting his final thoughts down, and Cristine drew close in the meantime and stopped at the edge of the table. Cristine attempted to glide her eyes over what Troy jotted down, but she only caught a glimpse since Troy decided to wrap the cord around his black-bound journal and shut it. Rubbing the side of her neck nonchalantly, Cristine pretended as if she wasn't trying to take a peek at what he was documenting when Troy gave her an odd look. His jaw relaxed, and his slightly parted lips lightly pulled up into a sheepish smile. He smoothed his over the evened-out leather and shoved his journal back in his pants.

"Just documenting my observations about today," Troy explained the question she hadn't asked but saw passing in her eyes. The attentive expression on Cristine's face remained the same. Wetting his lower lip, Troy found that Cristine's silence and leery eyes felt unsympathetic.

"Are you going to document them too? After we don't need them anymore?" Cristine finally questioned and tapped her index finger on the worktable. She saw how Troy thought her question over with those piercing eyes—treading these waters where Troy's obsession with the infected and the killing that came with quenching it was always a gamble. Troy was callous and detached when it came to fulfilling his thirst for knowledge and violence. Cristine wanted to know Troy's answer because she wanted to be prepared for the interrogation.

"Do you want me to?" Cristine's confusion showed on her face, taken aback by his question, and Troy breathed out a cynical laugh. "I rather not waste paper on half-dead pricks. It sort of immortalizes them and takes in more headspace than necessary. But if you want me to-"

"No." Cristine's response was quick and crisp. She shook her head and chewed the inside of her cheeks. "Let's just think of a way to make Aaron talk."

Troy got up from the chair. "Well, he doesn't exactly know what happened. He just found the bodies." He briefly pursed his lips and saw Cristine's eyes narrow, and it jolted something dark in Troy. "He doesn't know how long it took for his brother to turn after you stabbed him in the throat and watched the life leave his eyes… he doesn't know how you ripped that waste his throat out and gutted him." Troy peered into Cristine's eyes and saw the muscles in her face tighten. The top of her lip twitches, indicating the start of her simmering anger. Finding an opening, Troy slipped his hand around her upper arm and tugged her close to his body. She was so close to him. There was barely any room between them. Started by the sudden tug, Cristine watched Troy simply stare down at her with calculating eyes and the subtle shifts in his slowly relaxing face. It wasn't hasty, but careful and gone was the militant man. Her heart skipped when Troy said asked her, "how long did it take before they resurrected?" Troy knew the answer, but he was curious if Cristine remembered. He hoped she did because that beautiful massacre was the first time he'd witnessed the real Cristine.

Seeing the hunger etched on his face, Cristine exhaled, remaining surprisingly calm. "Ninety-one minutes for that rapist," her answer was soft, and it almost shocked her that she still remembered the time, but when she looked at him, Troy remained calm and gave her enough space. She felt her anxiety dwindle. He even seemed relieved. Cristine continued, "and fifty-four minutes for Ben." The traces of pride in Troy's eyes emboldened Cristine even with the right side of her brain blaring in alarm, warning her to avoid this dangerous path of being drowned in the dark depths of Troy's urges and instability that only lead to chaos. Cristine swallowed, pressed her hand against his chest, and severed their sinister conjunction through a light push. She clenched her jaw and said, "if he's not giving in, we kill him." Troy didn't push it; he just felt a bit disappointed Cristine cut their conversation off halfway. But it was her right to decide what she was going to do to Aaron.

-

It was just the three of them inside the basement. Because of how it was built, only a small square window provided a bit of light inside. It was more like a secluded room. The stone floor had gotten a new paint job. The splatters of crimson and the smell of bile comingled with death were almost unbearable. Almost, if not for the aggravating crooked smile of Aaron when facing Cristine. After spitting a mouthful of gore and a piece of his tooth, he glanced at the woman that'd hit him with all her strength the moment she entered. He felt his brains shake in his cranium and grunted before his scowl morphed into a blood-stained smirk that showed little to no worries. Aaron wasn't afraid of death. He had been around the concept even before the world went to shit. He even got to scrape together a group of like-minded allies and became their leader. True, most of his group was gone, and they had to keep moving, but this type of world was where men found their calling. It was where he had found his purpose. Now it was the end of the road for him.

Cristine hunched down to her knees, right in front of the amused Aaron. He didn't bat an eye when she brandished the hunting knife instead of watching intently as he followed her actions. She tugged at the rope around his bound wrists and slid the knife through it, freeing him of his bounds. "Thanks," he said cheekily and rubbed at his reddened and cut skin. "You figure things out or…" he paused, giving her a puzzled look and flicked his eyes over at Troy standing not so far behind, glaring intently. "Troy doesn't seem on board with what you're about to do," he remarked with a gesturing tilt of his head. His eyes veered at her face again. His lips curved with keen interest.

Cristine stared silently, debating whether to punch him again, but pushed through with their initial plan. Aaron wanted to get a rile out of the both of them. The man huffed nonchalantly and massaged his bruised neck and bleeding collarbone. Cristine flashed a map in front of him and tapped on it. "You have a hideout, or else you wouldn't need so many supplies. You're going to show us where it is, and it better match with what we know, or I'm out of here."

"Straight to the point, aren't we?" Aaron didn't wait for Cristine to confirm and spat on the ground, his mood souring. This conceited bitch thought she got one on him and saw him as an idiot.

"You're their leader, and I'm giving you a choice to make your deaths quick." Cristine rose and patted her pants with her palms and glowered at him with eyes so still if staring into them for too long, and they could swallow you whole.

Aaron narrowed his eyes. The crinkles at the edges tightened. "I understand why Dan and Joey were killed. They were insufferable pricks and had it coming. But Ben- he didn't." It was as unavoidable truth as the fact that the people on both sides had done equally horrible things, herding together with ruthless, blood-soaked determination. They were of the same breed, but in the end, one group was more potent than the other. Just like the law of nature, the strong prevailed over the weak. His thoughts trailed off, and Aaron lowered his arms between his legs, sighed as he suddenly realized how physically tired he was. He didn't raise his volume or change his pitch despite just being seconds away from his death. "He was a good kid. Innocent and didn't deserve what you did to him." Aaron thought of his sentimental and weak little brother. It hurt to know he was gone, lost the only family he swore to protect. Never should've let him go out on that run, but Ben begged him. His little brother wanted to pull his weight.

Cristine's cold words poked a hole through Aaron's sentiments, "he was careless and got bit. I saved him by amputating his arm, and when we got our answers, I put him down because he deserved it. If you're looking for someone to blame, blame yourself."

His brother might be sentimental, but he wasn't a dummy. Heck, he went to college and was book smart. "Hah, you're one fucked up and cold-hearted bitch aren't ya?" A low but empty chuckle vibrated out of Aaron's lips.

There was just something so contained about the woman looking down on him that he'd focused on the threat posed by her mind that could cause severe damage without him even knowing. "Maybe," she countered with a light shake of the head, her mien serious and the depth of her gaze hollowed out. "But you people get what you deserve. Holding those women and girls hostage and doing whatever the fuck you felt like without giving a shit about-"

"We protected them. They were free to leave at any ti-"

"No one gives a shit about your justifications. Just point on the damn map where your base is!" Troy had lost his patience and stepped into the light. "We already know you have one. Make sure it matches up."

"Or fucking what?!" Aaron's voice was hoarse when he snapped at Troy, and veins began to grown on his neck. He glowered at these two... kids. These murderers desecrated his little brother. "You're going to kill me anyway- agh!" A searing pain shot near his collar, and Aaron clenched at the wound that was slowly starting to infect. "Why the fuck would I even think of helping any of you? You can all go to hell! I just wanted to see the bitch who killed my brother one last time." His eyes darted in Cristine's direction, and a perverse smirk pulled at his lips, bearing his half-broken teeth. Aaron sneered violently, "enjoy all the luck you've had until now, but mark my words; you'll get to know what it feels like to lose everything. Lose the people you love. And it'll be your own damn fault. Your sister, your father, your people, your little Ranch, and your deranged, tantrum-driven boyfriend." A deranged glint appeared in Aaron's wild eyes, and spit leaked from his mouth as he kept raving profanities and the threats went downhill from there. "I should've shown a dumb bitch like you your place. I'd give it to you good and hard until you begged me -" A hard thwack bounced off the walls. Cristine blinked, registering the way Aaron's head snapped to the side. Blood and teeth flew from his mouth. Troy flanked him and dropped a solid kick into the man's jaw. Half a second late, Troy was on top of Aaron like a madman, and it wasn't until several unnatural cracks later of more bones slamming against the concrete ground that Cristine realized they weren't going to get any information. Troy made sure of that. The one-sided beat-down was without control and with one goal in mind. Kill. Cristine opened her mouth, then closed it, stared at the map in her hands, and crumpled. Then, with a sigh, she raised her head and watched coldly as her he struck Aaron down in a continuous barrage. A few more violent shoves and Troy struck hard enough to crack the man his skull finally.

An eye popped out, and muscles twisted sporadically. Aaron didn't even have the time to register or yell in pain. Another hit fractured more bone, sending red-hot blood up to his face. Troy briefly shut his eyes, lashes shielding the splatters from getting in, and exhaled sharply. Another slam dislocated the upper part of the spine, dislocating more bones. Troy remained utterly unfazed by his deed. Gone was the grimy smirk that taunted him. Dazed blue eyes flicked at the blood dripping on his shivering fingers, and Troy fished for his hunting knife and used the handle tightly as a grip. His rage wasn't quenched yet and, in a streak of silent fury, bashed the front of the man's head in. The first blow was always the most difficult, as splitting open a human skull was more challenging than it looked. The secret was to hold his grip and breathe out when delivering a strike. Troy did precisely that. After the fourth blow, the flesh and bone caved in like glass, shattered, and weakened. It was easier to reach the brains and turn that to mush. That was the definite blow. Troy didn't stop at hit number four; he kept going. He didn't stop when his hand turned slippery from the warm liquid or when red, pink, and white dirtied his face and uniform. This piece of meat wasn't human, so he'd treat it as such. Kill it as such. Kill it even more. The world became a blur, the vivid memory of this animal casually threatening what was his at the forefront of his fury. This waste dared to taunt. Troy completely disregarded what he promised Cristine barely two hours ago and destroyed Aaron's existence as a human being. This garbage didn't deserve to rot in the open, to even turn, to even exist-

"Troy." He paused after that downward thrust of his arm, fist, and blade handle inside the entirely caved in gray matter. Waiting for her to say something or perhaps angrily tell him to stop and cuss him for breaking his promise and lying to her. Or maybe remind him this thing wasn't moving anymore. Troy stared blankly at the canvas before him. It was all red and pink and- "you're hurt." A hand touched the curve of his shoulder.

"Go and wait outside, Cristine." His response was casual as if they just finished deciding shifts in the next few hours. There was no room for argument in his tone, and Cristine agreed she wouldn't do that either. She would let Troy ride out this murderous frenzy by himself and get fresh air. She saw that somewhere within that unrestrained fury, there was a slither of self-control between the cracks. He hadn't fully crossed the edge when she had part of his attention. When she stood by the door, ready to open it, she looked over her shoulder at Troy's still figure. His head was tilted, listening to the sound of her leaving, and Cristine reminded him.

"Make sure to clean up when you're done and come see me after." For a moment, Cristine looked crestfallen, absolutely exhausted. Then she pulled at the door handle, straightened her posture when she exited the room and walked back to the reception area. The beating noise from the basement faded from her ears the further she walked. The anger she expected to feel never came. She just wanted to go home.

Troy twitched. Everything but those words were like a blur, and they almost sounded like they came from a dream. But Cristine was as real as this heap of meat Troy repeatedly began to bash into an unrecognizable gore again. He went on until his arms got tired, his breath shuddered between his ears, and the quick replay of his echoing blows began to slow in speed and lower in sound. Through his red haze, his transfixed vigor began to die down. Troy wasn't sure how long he'd been going on, but at one point, it became tiresome, and as he came to himself, the feral embers of his rage dwindled. Panting, Troy sat hunched on a single knee before he wiped his face with his arm and smeared out the blood on his face. Afterward, he slipped his blade back in the casing and stared blankly at the unrecognizable caved in head that spilled with Grey matter, tissue, blood, and muscle. His mind was empty while his shoulders and chest slowly moved from catching his breath. Pulling up his nose, Troy slowly got to his feet before he tipped his head back and stared at the small window at the top. The setting sun was gone, night fell, and Troy had never felt more clear-headed. An odd pull briefly twitched at the corner of his lips. All the anger and irritation he'd felt these past hours ultimately left him.

-

Hailey was on her way back to the reception area with Nick. The two were conversing in leisure after scraping through the last few offices. It wasn't much, but Nick had bumped into the medic who was angry about something. Nick didn't pry and just offered they keep their mind off things. They would stay for the night anyway, but no one could rest with the questioning still going on and the last few dead trickling from the campus ground. They weren't going home yet, but scout Aaron and his men's hideout was also something the group was anxious about. The two stopped in their track when they heard several things fall. The disgruntled cuss that followed after was sharp and intense. The frustration that clung around the person was visible from miles away, and the two stared quietly at Cristine reorganizing the supplies into the containers. She wasn't delicate with putting the items back either. Hailey looked at Nick, who gave her a quizzical shrug, and the two decided to go her way.

"You need help with that?" Nick asked and set the items between his arm on top of the reception counter. The line of irritation in Cristine's eyes was hot, but Nick didn't take it to heart. She was annoyed with something else, and he guessed it must've been Troy like it usually was. It was no secret the two were like water and oil. Nick didn't wait for the older woman to answer and went through his hunches to help. "We swiped most of the place... some rooms were locked, for a good reason, but I think we're ready to move these to the laboratory building." While Nick gave a brief explanation, he saw that Cristine was distracted and listened with half an ear. He glanced at his other friend standing near the counter. Hailey was watching her sister awkwardly like she didn't know what to say or do. Sibling fights weren't any fun, but it was something only siblings could mend. But Nick could give it the right nudge, "I'm going to get some of the guys to help carry these." Big blue eyes darted at him, and Nick, not so subtlety, jerked his head at Cristine. He mouthed something along the lines of, "go talk." When he got to his feet, and he patted Hailey on the shoulder and left.

Cursing Nick's nosiness, Hailey sighed gently before rubbing her hands on her pants and went through her knees to help sort the last supplies. It was quiet, and just the sound of rattling and items got stowed away was audible. Biting on her lip, Hailey brushed her hair behind her ear and scratched her throat, wanting to at least start this as casually as possible, "Nick told me that interrogation is progressing... we have a lead."

Cristine grunted her answer, "yeah, details of a hideout. It might solve our water issue." Cristine answered curtly, signaling she wasn't in that much of a mood for a conversation. "We're checking it tomorrow morning."

"That's good." Hailey handed Cristine the toolbox and peeked from the corner of her eyes. "How's the rest of the interrogation going?"

Cristine shrugged, and the blunt answer shocked Hailey a bit, "Aaron managed to rile Troy up, not surprising. He lost his temper and ended up killing him within fifteen minutes of questioning. I think he's still busy bashing his head in the same way Aaron did to Emma. I left. Blake and Cooper made the most progress." The rest of Cristine's answers were callous and casual, "Andrew is cooperating." Cristine slightly scrunched her brows together and pushed her tongue against the sides of her teeth, and remarked, "your suggestion for Vince was sharp. The guy talked almost right away just to get a shot." Cristine looked at Hailey and saw her younger sister flinch when those big blue eyes peered straight back at her. "Don't worry about it; they'd have figured it out sooner or later. Vince was an addict. It's what the militia do when they process people."

"You mean when they were experimenting?" Her sister never outright said anything about it, but there were rumors. Then, Mike explained it rather vaguely to her, and she got the truth from Nick and Alicia. Their militia killed many people under Troy's orders and labeled it as science. Almost killed Nick, his girlfriend, and stepfather too. Hailey didn't know how to feel about it, but she didn't feel guilt or remorse for suggesting this today to Troy. She only felt terrible for one reason. She was able to suggest something like this because Nick had shown her the scarring on his arm. She recognized it on Vince. In a way, she was relieved Cristine caught her. It was difficult to look her friend in the eye, knowing his past, and that she used something like that go this purpose.

"Yeah," Cristine answered absently. "Don't let it bother you. I'm a hypocrite, and you were right to call me out on that."

Hailey frowned and asked, "Cristine, are you okay?"

"I don't know. I wanted to kill Aaron myself, but I didn't get the chance. I thought I'd be angry with Troy, but I'm not. I don't know." That was the truth. It was the way this all met its climax that Cristine had a hard time understanding her emotions. She quickly organized the last kits, tools, and scarce medicines in the box with a final sigh. For the longest time, neither sister could think of anything else to say. Hailey kept looking at Cristine, and Cristine was patiently waiting for her to speak, but the more the latter tried to find her words, the more it drags Hailey down. And like an invisible chain reaction, the sisters unanimously decided that they'd both find closure in the fact that they were alive and all their attackers would be dead soon. Hailey fought the tears pooling in her eyes and, with a quivering chin, sniffed hard and rubbed her nose with her arm. She scooted closer to her sister's side when Cristine held out her arm and hugged her tight. The soft kisses on her temple were comforting, and Hailey rubbed her cheeks comfortingly against the crook of Cristine's neck.

"It's okay."

-

Troy stared blankly at the cool water running through his crimson-painted hands. He concentrated on rubbing his fingers together. He cupped a handful of water inside his palms and threw it over his neck and face to clean the blood. The water felt good on his flushed skin, and Troy looked at himself in the mirror. The fiery embers of violence still flickered in his eyes, but he didn't have time to examine himself closely when they darted to the second reflection standing at the entrance, and Troy couldn't help but smirk.

Nick.

The dark eyes brunette warily watched him but didn't say a word. Troy turned off the tap, dried his hands and face with the handkerchief. He then turned to look at Nick in a relaxed pose, leaned against the edge of the sink, and raised his chin in question, "everything under control, Nicky?"

Nick didn't like the nickname, and it showed on his face in the form of a half frown. He was fumbling with his knuckle duster blade and kissed the back of his teeth, "peachy. Everything's set up, and we're ready to go. Just waiting on you guys." Nick's gaze scuttled over Troy's frame, mainly where the fresh blood was, and shifted on his feet.

"Oh." Troy caught onto the question Nick didn't ask but wanted to be answered. "Yeah, Aaron was useless, so I dealt with him accordingly. It got a bit messy at the end. You know how that goes." As if an inside joke amused him, Troy shook his head, "or maybe you don't since you've never killed."

"You're saying it as if that's a bad thing."

"Not everyone can make these complicated decisions."

"Killing someone doesn't sound that complicated. It's just that I noticed Cristine walking around like someone took a shit in her food. Seemed as if she disagreed." Nick held back the flinch from showing on his face when the lighthearted expression on Troy's face dropped an instant later, and his eyes frosted over. He'd hit a nerve, but bizarrely Troy didn't fall for his taunt when the latter chuckled.

"Well, Cristine isn't in charge; I am. I also know she'll come to me herself when she wants to speak her mind. You'd be surprised by what she's willing to do and how far she'll go for the greater good. Honestly, I thought you'd be grateful knowing we're taking care of a bunch of rapists and giving them what they deserve. This keeps you and your family safe in the long run too, Nick. That junkie is next. Hope you don't mind, given your affliction?" Troy peered at Nick with a faint smile that was taunting.

Nick shook his head and made a circling motion with his finger at the side of his head and stated, "you're insane."

"Come on; we saw the track marks when we processed you. Don't be ashamed of your past; it's part of who you are. And you're not using anymore. At least, I hope you aren't for your and your mother's sake. Addiction is a disease. Y'know," Troy began and crossed his arms over his chest as he shared his theory with Nick, "I had this theory that addicts turn faster, but I never got the chance to test it."

"So what? Vince is going to prove your theory cause I couldn't because my mom put a spoon in your eye?" Nick knew he was treading on thin ice and shouldn't antagonize this maniac. But now that he was in the thick of it all, he witnessed the militia's violent perversion under Troy. He knew people like this had to be dealt with but to take pleasure in killing them, torturing them for one's sadistic interests. That wasn't right, and that was what was happening. He briefly talked to Cooper and Blake and Troy's orders. Nick didn't want to be part of it.

"He's already half-dead," Troy smiled cynically, enjoying this back and forth with Nick. He had these same conversations with Cristine at the start, and she changed for the better. This morality and its so-called rules were hypocritical. The old rules didn't count. The strong decided what the rules were and the playing field. Troy was always going to be on the winning side. No matter what he had to do or who he had to kill. At least he killed for a cause and got the chance to learn too. "I'm collecting data, Nick. At least, this way, their lives will have some significance. If you want to switch places, be my guest. But you earned your spot in my militia doing what you did today. Most of the newbies would be damn grateful. If you're curious about the cause, you're free to join. If not, stay the hell out of my way or stay home with your mommy next time."

-

Cristine quietly scanned the open campus ground through the night vision binoculars. Through the green-colored view, she saw two other of their own routinely shift. They briefly communicated through their walkies. Cristine used the open rooftop as a sentry post. Away from the rest to seclude herself and organize her thoughts. After a while, Cristine walked along the platform's perimeter to watch all sides of their surroundings. Once in a while, she noted a stray infected and called it in with the rest, so they remained vigilant. But other than that, it was serene and chilly under the sky with barely had any stars. Cristine tugged her coat closer around her body to block the cold out when the metal door behind creaked. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was. It was their shift. Doing a final survey, Cristine focused on the watch, and when she lowered the binoculars from her eyes, Troy was standing at her side in silence.

"We cleared the fastest exit points for when we need to leave asap. We barricaded everything else as best we could, and the supplies are ready to be moved to the pharmacy building." It felt better to talk about the practical things first, so she pointed in the direction of the exit and barricaded points. Cristine realized the pressure that gripped her heart was less tight if she immediately brought up the situation of Troy's impulsive burst when he murdered Aaron. "Most infected are gone, and I didn't see anything out of place either. Randy and Erik are patrolling the campus ground on foot just in case, and we're checking in every fifteen minutes."

The moment he entered the rooftop and stepped in line next to her, Troy immediately noticed Cristine didn't look at him once as she broke down all their group's operational activity. He also noted the tightness in her expression, and his gaze stopped following the direction of her fingers, pointing out everything she explained. He barely listened to what she had to say anymore because the atmosphere was tense and just wrong. The clear of his blue eyes were incandescent with reluctance, but it was brief. Troy his lips thinned, his eyes turned beady, and eventually, his impatience prevail.

"-where the main streets are-"

"Cristine," saying her name, Troy interrupted her soliloquy. Cristine stopped, almost on command, and after a stuttering beat of silence, he reached for her arm and nudged her to face him. She didn't protest, but Troy was relieved she at least acknowledged his presence by looking at him. Contrary to what he expected, Cristine was receptive to his beckon, and the tension in his gut unclenched. Again, she surprised him when he prepared for the worst reaction. Troy expected an outburst, was ready for her anger and guardedness. Who wouldn't with what he'd done? None of that happened, and the tension in his body evened out. Cristine waited for him to speak, Troy's jaw relaxed, and his palm flexed around her arm. "Listen, I know I owe-"

Hearing the start of the conversation, Cristine shook her head and interrupted him, "stop." She pressed her arm against his chest and firmly looked in those guilt-stricken blue eyes that fogged over in confusion. Her expression, while serious, also tinged with vexation. Troy's not-so-subtle attempt to mitigate sounded insulting to her ears. She emphasized her words, "Don't say that you owe me. Ever. That makes it sound like everything we do for each other is conditional. It's not. You can say you regret the way you went about this and lost control."

Troy was a bit taken aback before making sense of what Cristine said. Their relationship wasn't limited to terms and conditions. He relaxed. "I don't regret that he's dead." He confessed. His voice didn't miss a beat and was crisp. But noting Cristine's posture, her upturned brows, faint scowl, and deliberate silence made him scratch his throat. "What he said to you... what he said he wanted to do to you. I don't give a shit that the questioning didn't go as planned." Troy's voice faltered, and he avoided Cristine's eyes by looking at this feet and gulped. "The only thing I'll own up to is that I didn't keep my promise when it was your right." Listening to Troy's now tempered explanation, Cristine saw him struggle to say his apologies and straightened her body. She tugged the arm he held and slipped it through his grip, making Troy look back up. Her eyes softened, and she didn't look away with her full focus on him, never blinking. He felt his mind ran a mile to process all the things he wanted to say. His eyebrows quirked as hesitance and what resembled insecurity flooded his features. "I know you don't want to hear that I owe you, but that was your kill." Cristine narrowed her eyes. The apology in his body language was a bit clearer to make out. His shoulders dropped together with his head, and his eyes couldn't keep holding her for too long. If this were before, he wouldn't have cared as much, even if Troy was a man of his principles when it came to giving someone the right to collect what they were owed. His actions today came from a place of protection; Cristine understood that. Raising her hand toward his temple, she rubbed her thumb against the spot of red. She felt Troy tense for a second, only to relax at the motions and Cristine's calm expression. She was unperturbed by what he'd done, indifferent even. Troy felt the exhaustion creep in his bones when she touched him, and a shaky sigh left his lips.

"We can talk about it when we get back home," Cristine said. Troy felt his muscles clench involuntarily. Just because she showed, no anger didn't mean it didn't affect her. At this point, the filtering in his gaze dissolved, and Troy looked back and forth in those dark eyes. The eye contact was intense despite the creeping fog in his irises, but Cristine held it too, unwilling to leave Troy to suffer in that cold loneliness that made him lose control. She wiped away the faint red streak on his forehead where there was a light cut. Troy was still. "The militia needs you right now," Cristine reminded him. There was an edge to her tone. "We need to save the others back home, and that's going to be under your charge." She said, making his responsibilities clear and placing their feelings at the bac for now. Troy needed to snap out of this for his own sake, his sanity, and the collective. His eyebrows scrunched together, and he was still trying, but unable, to find the right words to justify his outburst. He knew he didn't have to talk about it in-depth now, but this breach in loyalty wasn't right either. He acted on selfish rage when he said he wanted to do this together with Cristine. He went back on his word, so why wasn't she angrier?

Witnessing the way Troy struggled to find the words, Cristine pulled him into a hug. Arms over his shoulders with her nose in the crook of his neck and chest. The metallic edge of blood was faint, and she felt her eyes sting. Neither of them spoke or moved. Cristine was just content to hold Troy. She was aware of every breath he took, even the beat of his heart and the shift of his tense muscles against her. It all sparked a softness in her brain that she chose to relish. "I need you." The hot coal poking in the back of his eyes cooled. 

Relaxing in the embrace, Troy finally shut his eyes to come to terms with the reality of Cristine's presence and that claim. He exhaled and leaned his chin on her shoulder, and felt the warmth of her breath in his neck. The darkness dwindled. Troy realized that through Cristine... his anger ebbed too. That shocked him to the core. Being with Cristine and having her around felt right and liberating on all fronts. Troy tightened his arms around her frame to pull her closer against him and nudged his nose firmly in the side of her neck. The deep exhale that followed left behind a feeling of belonging and care that scratched at his chest and warmed his face. No one in his family ever made him feel this wanted and needed. She needed him, not her father or her sister. It was him. Cristine was his, and no one was going to take her away from him. Not even the woman in question. Troy wasn't going to allow it. He was going to make sure of that. Cristine her feelings and words were invigorating. Troy wouldn't let this chance to strengthen their bond pass. Despite himself, Troy's mind scoured places they weren't supposed to and, voice low, muttered, "I'm good." 

Cristine nodded in the crook of his neck, kissed his jawline a couple of times before stepping back. A faint smile pulled at her lips and her dimples sprouted. Her expression was easy, and Troy grazed his thumb up her cheek in a silent invitation. Jaw relaxing, he watched as Cristine silently leaned into the touch, and Troy uncurled the rest of his fingers, offering his open palm, and ran his hand against the side of her face. His touch was hot and raw, still unpracticed but no less comforting. Cristine carefully slid her hand to the back of his and pressed it firmly against her cheek. Her lashes flickered over her cheek when she took in all the feelings running through her. "I'm good too." When he heard her say those words, Troy bobbed his head down and gave her cheek a final consoling squeeze.

-

At approximately twenty miles and thirty minutes from the medical institute, most folks would deem the militia the brewery factory in a place that most folks would consider as the middle of nowhere. The area was surprisingly hidden well and barricaded firmly; Aaron and his crew had made sure of that. If it weren't for Blake and Cooper squeezing out all the details of the place, they'd probably never found it through the main roads that were, in most part, blocked by the miles-long traffic jam of abandoned cars. According to Andrew, the entrance was destroyed and barricaded by debris. They even lured the dead there on purpose after clearing the place from the inside. The only access was the back. Their vehicles maneuvered through a well-hidden sand road that led the group to the back of a chain-link fence that surrounded the perimeter. They tested how well it holds, and the fences were pretty sturdy. The group made its way towards the entrance. It was terrifying but also a bit easing that it was so isolated. When they entered the premises, the group remained vigilant, footing mindful, and kept the verbal communication minimum. Troy lifted his head to stare at the company name's bulky lettering on a wide sign that hung in full view. The walls were very high, and the windows had a good vantage point to see who was coming in and out from the entrances. 

They arrived at the area where the loading docks for the trucks were. Most spaces were empty, other than a few trucks here and there. The group took the back door to get inside. From there, the whole inside of the monstrously massive building appeared. It gave you the feeling of inferiority. It looked as big as it was, the four walls were endless, and the intimidating feel heightened everyone's wariness. Troy signaled at the group to get information to cover all four sides, with him and Nick at the front. Their steps deliberate and practiced. Inside was quieter than outside, and the air still had the scent of fermenting beer lingering. Most of the remains of the big tanks were untouched but clean. It seems Aaron and his gang kept the place as dust-free as possible. Slowly, but surely the group followed the trail to the docking bay where several tank trucks and regular-looking trucks were parked. Troy approached one of them and stopped near the back of one of the trucks. There was a wand, and Troy pulled the lever to the other side, and a stream of clear liquid ran down. He let it run through his finger and brought it to his nose to make sure it wasn't beer, and licked it. A breath he never knew he held left his body, and Troy looked at the group and said with a pleased grin on his face, "it seems we hit the jackpot. Now let's do a quick sweep of this area only to see if there is more. I have a feeling we aren't the first ones these assholes tried to steal stuff from."

Troy's focused stare drifted towards Cristine. She had her gun in her hands, looking around with wary suspicion. Then, her dark brown eyes moved in his direction, and he saw her hardened features soften subtly. She answered his silent inquiry with a nod, and Troy raised his rifle to his back up his chest. He didn't have to second-guess or ask because he knew she had his back. They took the metal stairs up with due diligence, made their way across the iron molded platforms, and checked the doors. Cristine's heart hammers in her chest when the two of them slip inside the second room and almost gagged. Troy had his gun aimed at the human-shaped heap in the corner. The stench of mold, urine-filled their noses, and the couple moved, Cristine with her gun up from the left and Troy at the right. At first, the shape in the dimly lit room didn't even look like a person, but when Troy's flashlight fell on the pale, haggard face, Cristine let out a terrified gasp.

It was a woman, and she was still alive, barely, her face disfigured. Her heavy-lidded eyes were rimmed in red, and her bare legs were covered in bruises and lesions. Her pants were at her ankles, but her bloody panties covered her privates. Cristine her arms went slack, and she lowered her gun and inhaled a sharp and painful breath. Her eyes began to water, and she sniffed, "Troy." She pleaded at him with frail eyes to lower his gun, and after a while, he did, but his posture remained the same. The woman was brutalized, and Cristine knelt by her side and pushed the tremble in her fists down. She looked at the constellation of wounds, some old, others infected, and some still fresh - a few days ago. Her breaths were raspy, and Cristine helped the woman lie down in a comfortable position. "Don't worry. You're safe now."

"kl…." The woman was trying to speak, but Cristine couldn't understand her.

"It's okay. They won't hurt you anymore."

"K- much." The woman tries to swallow and speaks through a raspy voice, "k-kill me… ple-please…" Cristine froze when she felt the woman's twisted hand frantically fumble at the gun holster on her hip. Her heart dropped through the floor, and a troubled expression crossed her features. A second later, however, her face went slack, and she palmed the back of the scabby, bony hand and put it at her side. Before pulling her gun out, Cristine made eye contact with the half-dead woman and said, "they're dead. My people killed them… we made sure they suffered." Cristine nodded before she got to her feet and stepped back. She gazed down at the broken doll on the floor for a long time. She cocked the cold steel in her hand, pointed the barrel of it at the woman. Loosening the safety, Cristine aimed for the head and squeezed the trigger, and shot point-blank for the skull. Blood painted the wall red, and the woman's lifeless body slumped down. Cristine clutched her weapon, exhaled a sharp breath.

A firm grip lowered her slightly quivering hands after the gunshot died down. "Let's go," Troy ushered in a low voice, and Cristine nodded docile, and they left the room. The silence rippled for a moment when they searched the room they were in. Cristine saw a few old boxes and opened them. What she saw inside made her come to a complete standstill—non-perishables and water and medicine. The tension within her body deflated, and Cristine almost lost her balance if it wasn't for her tight grip. Troy must have heard her and wanted to ask if she was alright when he saw what she came across. He opened a few more boxes and saw the knives, guns, and ammo. They stockpiled this place with an abundance of whatever valuable supplies they could find, and now this was all theirs.

"Lot of stuff scavenged by just three guys," Troy remarked, highly suspicious.

"They most likely stole it… like they were planning to do with us," Cristine added. While shared Troy's cynicism, but she also wanted to go back home with some good news. "This will last us for a long time, especially the water if we take just one tank truck back home. We'll be able to have enough water without having to ration. We can fill our reserves again." Cristine slid her hand back and forth the sides of the boxes and rubbed the end of her eye with her thumb.

Troy observed her. He moved his jaw back and forth and remarked, "you put her out of her misery. It was an act of mercy." 

"I know," Cristine answered in a clipped tone before she dropped her shoulders. "It's not about that." She looked over her shoulder at Troy with a withering expression. "You remember when you asked me how I control my emotions? How I switch it on and off." Troy looked confused for a moment but nodded carefully. "It's not easy, and I'm not always like that either. I let my anger get the best of me; I just know what I need to hold onto to help me calm down and think."

"What's it for you?" Troy hoped asking Cristine would give him a purpose of controlling his struggles.

Cristine's expression faltered, and the vigor in her eyes dimmed. For a few seconds, she hesitated, but after she found her voice again, she explained the anchor that made her compartmentalize her emotions on command. It was something Cristine was able to do even before the apocalypse. "In the old world, by assuming the worst in people. Now it's that and thinking of the worst that can happen to my family, my friends... to you," Cristine thought that she saw a quick flash of light in his eyes. Still, it was gone when she looked closely at Troy and elaborated, "I prepare for the worst in a person's motivation, in their actions or their words. It helps me figure out what I need to do next. Because if I don't, everyone I love and care for will die." Cristine had the look of someone sure of her system that had helped her make it through most of her life. It kept her alive and sane. As Troy processed everything she said, he realized the two weren't so different after all. He and Cristine grew more closer to each other in their beliefs when it came to their people's survival and what role they had to make that happen. "I envy you sometimes." Troy's brows knitted together when Cristine said that with a light smile. "You're able to brush a lot of things off. It doesn't seem to eat you up either. I don't always agree, but whatever you do right or wrong doesn't matter. And that's what matters; that your convictions keep you focused and in control. You hold onto them, and you don't let go until you reach the goal. You get angry after."

Troy's breaths were easy and collected while looking at Cristine. She didn't shut down her emotions on command around him. It was rare of her to do that now. Contrary, Cristine was very open with her feelings now. She had been for a while, and Troy had managed to soak all of that up and copied a lot of it for himself. The shift in his demeanor didn't go unnoticed by Cristine, who pressed her lips together. She brushed her fingers against the end of his hand. She was searching for his willingness to tell her what was on his mind.

"James knows about us." The unrelated comment caught Cristine off guard, and she sighed and made a brief turtle face by pulling her brows and lips up in a shrug.

"My dad's… sharp like that. It doesn't change anything, though." Cristine patted him on the chest and flashed him a brief but awkward-looking smile.

Troy licked his lip, and the tone of his voice began to falter. "Before we left, James said that I needed to protect you and Hailey, even if I had to sacrifice someone from the militia." Cristine was quiet, slightly taken aback before her eyes narrowed, and it jolted something dark in Troy. "He didn't want you to know, and I didn't want to keep it a secret from you."

"Why tell me now, though?" Cristine asked.

Troy pursed his lips and, with a pull, reminded them of the promise made. He ignored the started sound that came from her mouth. "Because it came to mind when I went out to get you. I almost wanted to break Coop's jaw when he tried to stop me." Troy watched Cristine her surprise twist into horror and conflict when realizing his confession. Troy didn't care and continued in a low tone, "like you said, you won't always agree with my reasoning, and I don't expect you to. But at that moment, I felt more control than I ever did. When I walked between the dead, I only thought about saving you and making them pay, and I did." Cristine her lashes infrequently fluttered over her eyes and lowered her face slightly when Troy's fingers lingered against the blooming dark purple-blue bruises near her neck and jaw. "What you said last night… same goes for me. No regrets, no what-ifs, could haves' or should haves.' I need you too." Troy was so deep in thought; he stared right through her, and Cristine saw herself reflected in his blue eyes. Her heart shuddered when his stare focused on her again and sought out his body warmth. "I never thought someone other than my family could make me feel this way, but you do, Cristine. I realized that after I killed him. I did it for you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo!!! While writing this last chapter, I want to share with you guys that this book is finished and now completed.....
> 
> But-
> 
> No worries though! It's not the end! 
> 
> I am stil brainstorming what I want my final book for myTroy Otto Series will be about. Flesh and Bone has gotten really long and I kind of think starting a new book will help me with that creative process, especially because I'm writing not canon and my goal is to write something that is on the same level as my previous books. I don't think it will be posted next week, because I am still brainstorming which route I want to take, but please subscribe/follow me to be updated.

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome back lovelies! I'm really excited for this new Book. As always, share your thoughts, feedback and criticism with me. And also leave kudos and share this story with your friends/followers!


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